The Greengrass Contract
by UWontKnoXD
Summary: {HP/DG}{Character Bashing}{GoF - and beyond} Harry decides to take his life into his own hands after his godfather's death during his third year, and changes for the better. With his pro Quidditch career kicking off and his finding of an amazing girlfriend, things are looking up. That is, until he faces the fact that he's been forced to marry the cold, beautiful Daphne Greengrass.
1. Chapter 1

**The Greengrass Contract  
****by UWontKnoXD**

**Warnings: Mentions of sex, drugs, rape, and all those unhappy things. Yes, there's a reason it's rated M.**

A/N: This is our average Marriage Contract with someone Harry doesn't know/like story. I just wanted a change from my other stories; I felt like doing something with not as much angst, and more fluff and Harry having some relationships and things. So, I'll get it off my chest quickly: Harry will not be with Daphne right away, nor the whole time. He'll develop a relationship with her, and hopefully it should be interesting in the end. Enjoy!

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**Chapter 1: Decision**

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In the summer of 1994, on July the 31st, Harry Potter decided to take shit no more. He had a fiery rage burning in his heart, but it was masked by a dull depression. The question is, who was he mad it? An important question; one that he was asking himself. Who was the enemy of Harry Potter?

The dying light of the evening cast dark shadows across the prone figure of said boy. Harry glared at the ceiling whilst flexing his fingers as soft hooting broke the silence subtly. Harry told himself that the answer to the previous question will be answered as soon as possible, and the only person capable of answering it was himself.

And so, Harry found himself in a full circle, and figured that idle thoughts wouldn't solve his dilemma. Thus, he created a list of people on his suspect list. The highest on his list was, surprisingly, the Headmaster.

Harry gathered what information he could in his mind. Dumbledore had left him on the Dursley's doorstep, exposing him to a decade of abuse, and the summers of neglect and labour that followed. But his motives must also be counted into his equation, and that was to save the Wizarding World. Seeing it from a wide perspective, Harry realized that the old man was doing what was 'right', even if it wasn't appreciated on Harry's part.

No, Albus Dumbledore was not his enemy. Nor was he the grandfatherly figure he displayed himself as. Dumbledore was their leader, albeit a mildly cruel one.

As Harry's mind wandered to the next person on his list, Petunia Dursely's mind wandered towards the direction of food, thus summoning her nephew from his deep thought.

Getting up slowly and leaving his room at the same speed, Harry admitted grudgingly that the Dursley's were much better than previous years, mostly due to the fact that Harry had announced his godfather's identity. Upon the realization that Sirius Black was related to and concerned about Harry, Vernon had tried to give custody of the 'brat' to anyone willing to listen.

The thought of Sirius caused Harry to choke up slightly in his throat. After Harry had driven off the countless dementors, he and Hermione were able to save Sirius and the Azkaban escapee had flown off. But, to Harry's horror, the swarm of dementors he had just recently driven off came back with a vengeance, causing Harry's godfather to fall to his death in Black Lake. The Lake's name held a cruel irony, and Harry didn't feel that he'd ever be able to go near it again.

Harry grinned ruefully, despite these depressing thoughts, stepping down the stairs that formed the roof of his old sleeping quarters. If Vernon was able to get rid of Harry, Harry would be more than happy to leave the family forever.

Upon entering the kitchen, Petunia eyes him warily. Harry decided that the wariness was due to the fact that Petunia did not know how to address him. His recent contact with a mass murderer caused Petunia to be afraid and paranoid of calling her nephew a freak or a brat. So the calculating woman instead said, "Boy, when we've finished dinner, you can retire to your room. Dudley is out with his friends, so it's just you and me."

Harry blinked at the woman, who by her posture seemed getting prepared to cook alongside someone. "Er . . . Yes, Petunia."

And to his disbelief, Harry was cooking grilled cheese sandwiches with his aunt, who hadn't uttered a single scathing word the whole time. This no-speak streak carried on until the two had set the pile of four sandwiches onto the dining table; Harry had turned to leave when Petunia snapped, "What are you doing? Get a plate and sit down!"

Harry hurried to obey, and a minute later, to his utter amazement, the two relatives were having a subtle meal, at the same time, at the same table.

Silence reigned for several more minutes until Petunia said tersely, "I know that your godfather died."

Harry said nothing in reply, but his eyes said it for him; they became a more dull forest green instead of their usual bright emerald shine. Watching her nephew breathe slowly through his nose, Petunia continued, "I just wanted to say that I won't tell Vernon."

Harry looked up sharply, and Petunia stared evenly back. "Is there any way that you can leave this house? Vernon is getting unbearable, and if you leave, it'll be better for both of us."

Harry blinked slowly, gears turning quickly. This was his only chance. To leave, and to have the freedom to do whatever he wished. With a start, Harry realized that if he was trying to find his enemy, he'd have to look at the people's traits, and just how much they were hindering his freedom. And in this moment, where he had his only chance, Harry blurted, "Tonight, I can go to the Wizarding bank and try to find out who my guardians could be."

Petunia immediately agreed that this would be a good idea, and asked what mode of transport he'd be using. Harry assured her that he'd be able to handle it by himself, and within five minutes, Petunia had taken out his locked possessions, and Harry had packed everything. In order to conserve space, Harry had also thrown out Hedwig's cage, and would instead have her perch on his shoulder. Harry slipped his wand into his pocket and turned to his aunt, and they both were silent. Harry had no expression on his handsome face, while Petunia had conflicting looks; a mix of confusing and sadness. Harry smirked slightly, and attempted to lighten the mood, saying, "It's okay, Auntie, no need to cry; I'm sure you can manage the chores all yourself."

Petunia, with the faintest ghost of a smile, ushered him out of the door, into the pleasantly cool summer air. "I'll send a letter if I find a guardian. Otherwise, if I don't, I'll just come back." Harry said, and Petunia nodded. After several more seconds of awkward standing around, Petunia softly closed the door, and Harry turned with his wand in his right hand.

**OooOooO**

Having left his things at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry practically skipped through the bustling Wizarding marketplace.

The night summer air was humid and warm, cushioning Harry's skin with a loving touch, and the torchlight shined on his beaming face. The winding street was swarming with adult wizards, bright torches on each side of the thin cobble path. The high signs on each side were illuminated by a massive moon, and Harry was as happy as could be.

First, he figured that he should get straight down to business and head to Gringotts. Looking back, Harry admitted that he wanted to go to Gringotts so that he could walk down the merry street and converse with random people, but who wouldn't?

Stepping inside the bank and watching the quiet and peaceful nature of the soft scratching of quills on parchment, Harry walked past the two rows of writing goblins.

Upon reaching the front desk, Harry looked up confidently at the goblin and said, "I'd like to access my vault, sir."

The goblin took his sweet time, putting down his parchment slowly and looking down upon the boy. "State your name."

"Harry Potter."

The goblin nodded just as slowly. "Do you have a key, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shook his head. "Either Rubeus Hagrid or Albus Dumbledore has it. And please, call me Harry."

The goblin nodded in understanding. "In which case, we were already going to do a blood test on you. Please, follow me."

The goblin went down a mini stairwell to get off the desk, and Harry followed him around to the back.

As they walked, Harry inquired, "What did you day about blood test? I thought only Muggles used those."

"You are thinking of the wrong test, Mr. P - Harry. Sit down, please."

Harry found himself at a small table with several envelopes on it, and he obeyed the goblin. But when the short creature pulled out an intricate knife, Harry flinched.

"It's alright, Harry. The dagger is charmed not to hurt, and your skin will heal itself. Just slit your hand and let it drip on this parchment." The goblin said, pushing forward a blank parchment and holding out the knife. Harry took the knife and slowly slit his hand, and asked, "What's your name?"

As his blood hit the parchment, it spread and covered almost the whole paper, causing Harry to almost tip over his chair. "Griphook." The goblin replied, taking the parchment back. "Watch."

Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the now red parchment formed white words near the middle. It said,

_Harry James Potter_

_Born July 31, 1980. Attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Gringotts meeting due:_

_The Wills of James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans Potter, and Sirius Orion Black._

_Titles:_

_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

_The Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter_

Harry whistled, and the goblin nodded. "That's not all."

Even as he spoke, more words formed, and these words appeared:

_When Harry starts his fourth year, Albus, you should reveal the contract to him._

Harry's jaw dropped, and Griphook chuckled. "Before you start asking questions about that, let's read the Wills."

Harry shook himself. He'd read about such contracts, of course, and knew what they were; they were binding magical contracts, which is a natural, magically-enforced agreement between two or more wizards or witches who partake in it. If you didn't you'd lose your magic, or you'd die. Pushing this out of his mind, he watched Griphook take out three envelopes. Using a letter-opener, he slit it open flawlessly and took out the parchment, and said,

_"The final will and testament of James Charlus Potter and Lily Evans Potter, as observed by Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black._

_To Albus, we leave 5,000 galleons every year Harry attends Hogwarts; this is for any damage done by what I assume will be seven years full of pranking. (Ow, Lily! No, I'm not encouraging him!)_

_To Remus, we leave 10,000 galleons every year to pay for your living, and the Potter Manor. We know that it'll be hard for you to find a job due to your furry little problem, but we have faith in you._

_To Sirius, we leave the same as I did Remus. You two can share the Manor, since we know that Sirius will be too lazy to get a job. Take care of Harry, both of you._

_To Peter Pettigrew, we leave 2,500 galleons. Sorry, Peter, but we all know that we never really were very good friends, but we feel that we can trust you enough for you to be the Secret-Keeper._

_To Minerva, we leave our cottage in Scotland, and it's quite close to Hogwarts. Take care of Harry, assuming he's in Gryffindor (which he bloody well will be. Ow! Lily!)_

_To Harry, we leave everything else, and the title of Head of House Potter. If you're reading this, then we're both dead, and we're terribly sorry, but stay strong, son. We love you."_

There was silence as Griphook turned and called another goblin, saying, "Send this to the Ministry right away. Sirius Black is innocent, and his family should be compensated."

Harry sniffed heavily, and Griphook eyed him. "Are you ready to move on, Harry?"

Harry nodded mutely as Griphook read out,

_"The final Will and Testament of Sirius Orion Black, as observed by Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black._

_To Albus, I leave 50,000 galleons, to help with whatever projects you feel like doing in the future. Thanks for everything, old man._

_To Remus, I leave 10,000 galleons yearly, since Prongs did it first. Stay awesome, Moony._

_To James and Lily, I leave half of the Black fortune, which is somewhere in the ten million galleons range. Donate it to a charity or something. I love you guys._

_To Peter, I leave 2,500 galleons, Sorry, Wormtail, but you were a bit of a follower._

_To Andromeda and Nymphadora, I reinstate you into the Black family, eave you a quarter of the Black fortune, and the Black Manor in Northern Scotland. Have fun, Nymphy._

_To Harry, I leave everything else. I love you, pup. Have fun with your life, and don't waster it on mourning the dead. Live it to the fullest, kid._

Harry's eyes brimmed with tears, Griphook nodded gravely. After the silence stretched a nice amount, Harry said, "I almost forgot. The reason I came here was to see if I could transfer my guardianship to anyone else."

Griphook nodded again. "The bank has discussed this, and first, you were supposed to go to Sirius, but he was in Azkaban. Then, to Remus, but Magical law states that he is not human, and not able to become a guardian. Next to Minerva, but she lived at Hogwarts, and so couldn't take you in. And next, Dumbledore, but he had much to many things on his hands, and had no time to take care of you, and so on and so forth. The reason you ended with the Dursley's was because there was a loophole in the contract you mother and father instated: They said that their last choice was the Dursley's. During the Wizengamot meeting where they discussed where you could go, Lucius Malfoy came out and said that they literally meant the Dursely's as the 'last choice', and since the other guardians weren't fit, they were forced to send you there."

Harry glowered. "Well, they made a massive mistake." He hissed. "They treated me like a slave."

Griphook said nothing, as he had no part in Harry's inner rage. "Your guardianship will now be transferred to the next family in line, which is the Greengrasses. Would you like to arrange a meeting with them during the school year?" Harry nodded, and then Griphhook asked, "Mr. Potter-Black, would you like to withdraw from your vaults now?"

Harry nodded again, and Griphook stood and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Come on, Harry. We've got sacks of money to transfer into the Potter family vault.

**OooOooO**

Meanwhile, a petite, 14 year old girl sat in a comfy chair by a large, roaring fire. To her right, her mother and father sat, and both were tense, causing the girl to be slightly scared. What was going on? Her parents had called her to the study, but not Astoria.

The father looked over at the girl after several minutes of anticipation. The girl was very beautiful, and took after her mother, with fluffy, curly blond hair, a sharp small nose and light red lips. Her skin was fair, and her eyes were a bright, piercing cyan. There was a reason they called her the Ice Queen of Slytherin, after all.

Cyril Greengrass sighed. "Daph," He began, "What do you know about Harry Potter?"

Daphne blinked, her long lashes flashing. She had seen and heard Harry Potter frequently at Hogwarts. From what she heard from Snape, Draco and a few other Slytherins, he was a self-absorbed, obnoxious boy, who was always seeking attention. Of course, no one believed Draco whatsoever. The blonde-haired boy was a right prat, and all of Slytherin knew it. Casting up her memories, Daphne quickly realized that she did not know Harry Potter at all. He took his insults from Snape without complaint, something that Draco could never manage if from another teacher.

"Nothing, really. He's quiet in his classes, and I'm pretty sure he hit a growth spurt near the end of last year. He became taller than most of the girls in our year. Well, I haven't really heard nothing: I've heard the ridiculous stories going about, from first and second year. Something about killing a Basilisk and Professor Quirrell."

Cryil nodded thoughtfully. "And what of Draco Malfoy?"

Daphne snorted, ice forming in her blue eyes. "A right prat. No one likes him, and if anyone talks back to him he threatens them with his daddy."

Cyril nodded. Lucius had much of the same attitude. "And Daph . . . what about Marriage Contracts?"

Daphne froze. "Did you - contract - with _Malfoy_?" She whispered in horror. Cyril quickly backtracked.

"No, no, Daph, not at all. Trust me, we feel the same way about the Malfoy's."

Daphne sighed in relief. "Then why'd you bring up Marriage Contracts, if I'm not betrothed to anyone?"

Cyril opened his mouth, but closed it quickly, having his wife finished for him. "You are, Daph." Apolline said quietly. "With the Potters."

Daphne froze once again. "With - with Potter? The Golden Boy of Gryffindor?"

Before her parents could respond, the fire in the fireplace glowed green, and a small, wrinkled head stuck out of it. The goblin head declared, "May I come in, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass?"

The parents nodded quickly, and the goblin stepped through, brushing dust off of his Gringotts uniform. When he had finished grooming, he went over to the families and shook their hands. "Griphook, at your service. May I sit?"

The Greengrass' gestured that he did so. He then went down to business. "Mr. Greengrass, Harry Potter came to Gringotts today. He read the Wills of his parents and godfather, and he'll learn of the Marriage Contract before the school year starts. Have you told your daughter?"

Looking to his left, he found Daphne sitting there with an amazed expression. "Ah. I see you have."

At this remark, Daphne Greengrass didn't know what to think, and so she left without another word, to ponder on what life-changing events had occurred.

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A/N: Tell me if you liked it! I've thought of the basic plot, but give me suggestions one what things should happen. If I like it, I'll mention you in the author's note. Hope you enjoyed!

Updated 2/17/14, fixed very minor errors.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Greengrass Contract  
****by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: This will be a slightly long author's note, since I'll be replying to one of the reviews. When more people start reviewing, I'll start putting it at the end of the chapter.

_wolfgang108_: That is exactly the route that I wish to take in this story: I want Harry to enter into the dating scene earlier, and discover girls, as you said. Although I know that at least some of you are dreading the time where I lead Harry into the cliche, super power/super confident personality that is much too OOC for him.

To All Readers: The main problem I have with writing Fanfiction (and it is evident in my other works) is that I have no conflict. My stories have little plot, and eventually I lose interest. Rest assured, I will do my best to not have that happen here. Also, give me tips on how I can improve – and this includes plot ideas and whatnot.

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**Chapter 2: Change**

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Several hours later, Harry Potter stepped out of Osiris's Optical with all the supplies he'd need for the next school year, and a few items extra. These items consisted of a wand holster, a fountain pen, a galleon sack from which Harry could withdraw money from his vault at any time, and (a last minute grab) magical contacts.

Why? Harry now pondered this as he left Diagon Alley and entered the musty Leaky Cauldron. When he had entered the optical shop, he'd only been there to have his eyes tested and maybe get some new glasses (his old ones were absolutely rubbish), but he found much more. Mortimer Osiris (owner of the shop) recognized Harry upon contact and refused to test him until he'd go with him to the back of the small building. When he'd done so, Osiris had introduced him to magical contacts. Magical contacts never had to be cleaned or taken out of the eye. In fact, there were charms so that they'd never fall out, and more charms to his eye so that his vision couldn't get any worse.

The wand holster he'd gotten was tied to his forearm, and when needed, all he'd have to do is think it, and his wand would slide into his hand. No explanation was needed for that one.

The pen was what Harry considered to be a massive improvement to the rudimentary quills that Hogwarts insisted they use. The pen was charmed so that whenever you ran out of ink, it would automatically tap into one of the large magical ink companies and buy from them. It was a meager galleon a month, and Harry figured that his penmanship and overall written essays would improve.

Harry then crossed the pub of the Leaky Cauldron and stepped up the stairs and into his designated room. Opening the creaky door, he threw off the new cloak he'd bought at the Alley, and reached into his pockets. Throwing the thing in his pocket onto his bed, he looked around at his room.

It was very small, but warm and homely. The wallpaper on the walls was a dark blue with hints of grey, and the floor was wood with a carpet on it. There was a large window on one side that overlooked the night-covered Diagon Alley, and a small desk in front of it, with a candle and parchment. To the right, in the corner, was his bed, with thick white sheets covering the mattress, and Hedwig perched in its frame, her food in a small bowl next to her. There were drawers on the left side of the room, and a large, Harry-sized mirror next to that. Finally, in the corner to the left of the door, was a small sink. The sink was small because the only thing that you needed it for was for washing your hands. There were many spells one could use to brush your teeth, and there was a public restroom down the hall. Over all, it was a much better room that what he'd had at the Dursley's, and Harry loved it.

Reaching into the pocket of his discarded cloak, Harry pulled out a small, palm-sized chest and placed it carefully next to the bed. It was plain, with a silver trim running around the lid. Following the instruction given to him in the Alley, Harry softly set his palm on top of the chest and said, "_Finite incantatem_."

The chest, having been hit by a shrinking charm, returned to its former size, which came up to the bed's side. The chest channeled your magic straight from you into itself, much like a wand does. Rather than actual spells, the words spoken were more like key-words, thus the Ministry didn't come down onto him and arrest him for underage magic.

Now that the chest was enlarged, you could see a handprint that is exactly Harry's size on top of the lid. To open it, Harry placed his hand on it and murmured quietly the password: "The Enemy." This password was obviously inspired by the thought process that he planned to finish in his free time.

The lid flashed a faint gold as it unlocked, and Harry popped open the top. Looking in, he found that the enlargement charm worked; on the inside, it looked like there was almost three feet of space vertically, with his fourth year books piled on top of one another in two piles. To the right of that, there was a pile of Hogwarts robes, some deep green dress robes, and a t-shirt, hoodie, jeans, and jogging pants for the days where he could lounge around, like on weekends.

Taking out one of the optional books, a Guide to Magical Theory, Harry began to read.

**OooOooO**

Meanwhile, at the Greengrass Manor, Daphne Greengrass was confused and angry. Storming off into her room, she slammed the door behind her and buried her face into her very comfortable bed.

The Greengrasses were somewhat new pure-blood family. They started out as barley farmers in France in the Renaissance, and they were very closely related to the Malfoys; in fact, the Malfoys were actually a branch of the Greengrasses, but they were driven from France for High Treason (hence the name _mal foi,_ which means bad faith_), _while the Greengrasses earned their name from the multitude of lush green fields they owned. Not only were they driven from France and branded with their name, but the Malfoys were also cursed to forever have pale hair and bare faces, to mark them as French traitors. The Greengrasses continued to be a peaceful family, and then moved to Great Britain in the early 1800s. From there, they stayed a firmly neutral magical family. Cyril Greengrass was a politician, and Apolline was a potion brewer, but never became a master, or pursued higher education. Instead, she fell in love with Cyril, and their first child, Daphne, and then another, Astoria. In contrary to popular belief, the Greengrasses stayed neutral.

Having reviewed this knowledge over in her mind, Daphne wondered how she would go about this. Harry Potter was a mysterious figure to her, but her friend, Tracey Davis, had done research on all boys she deemed fit for her affections. Among these was Daphne and Tracey's best friend, Blaise Zabini, who unfortunately turned out to be gay. He had revealed this only to his two female friends, and the two swore never to tell anyone about it. Blaise was a good friend to her, but Daphne found him too quiet, and she would often forget he was there.

The good thing about Tracey was that she was from a long line of pure-bloods, but her grandfather had married a half-blood, and thus she herself was labeled a half-blood. The Greengrasses did not believe in the pure-blood elitist idea, and the Davis family was often away on trips, so Tracey was often left to stay with Daphne over the summer. Daphne then remembered that Tracey would be staying with her in several weeks until Hogwarts, and decided she would ask her about her Harry Potter enigma. But before then, she would review what she knew.

Harry Potter was (near the end of Third Year) becoming quite tall. He was what they call a late bloomer, and so both Granger and Weasley had been taller than him up until said year. The boy had messy black hair and bright green eyes (she was told that they were stunning), and was scrawny as anything. He wore his school robes whenever Daphne had seen him, but the one time she's seen him in casual clothes, he wore a shirt that was several sizes too large for him and pants that required an ugly brown belt to keep up on his bony hips. Was this the boy that she was betrothed to?

With a sudden drive, she went to her desk under the window, grabbed some parchment, and scribbled out a brief message, addressed to Harry Potter. Putting down her quill, she stood and petted her owl, Jesse. It was small and black with white marks, and was her favorite animal.

"Hey, girl." She murmured lovingly, petting her head, near her beak. Earning a small 'hoot' in return, she continued, "Can you take this to wherever Harry Potter is? I know you've never delivered to him before, but I suspect he's at the Leaky Cauldron, since the goblin said he was at Gringotts."

Snatching an envelope and opening it and preparing the Greengrass Seal, she looked over at the large, old grandfather clock in the corner of her room. It was almost 1 A.M in the morning, but she decided that it wouldn't matter. Daphne had heard that Potter had an owl, and Jesse could stay with the snowy-white bird until Potter sent a reply. Once she'd slid the letter into an envelope, she tied it to one of Jesse's feet, and the owl took off into the night.

**OooOooO**

Harry Potter was shocked, to say the least. It was well into the night (around 3 A.M), and not halfway into the thick tome that was the Guide to Magical Theory, he had hit a massive piece of information. Looking over it again, it said,

_Magical power resides in the wizard/witch, first and foremost. Contrary to popular belief, the wand does not 'choose' the wizard/witch; the wand's core and the wizard/witch's magic in contact with it are compatible with each other, and so the wand's core sends a pulse of magic through itself and into the wizard/witch, provoking a reaction. Similar to this, a wizard/witch's emotion is the key thing that ties into his/her magic. Accidental magic is caused solely by high emotions, thus when the wizard/witch feels extreme anger/happiness/anxiety, their magic is enhanced. This enhancement only works with the stronger emotions, thus it would not work with any form of depression. Adrenaline also channels straight into the wizard/witch's magic, either enhancing it perfectly, or overpowering the spell._

_One other large factor pertaining to a wizard/witch's magical performance is physical fitness. Although it may seem controversial, a wizard/witch's fitness level directly influences the power bursts from which you cast spells. If the wizard/witch is malnourished or obese, their magic will restrain itself as to protect the wizard/witch. Why? If the wizard/witch is not fit, their magic could essentially kill them. This is the reason old wizard/witches are killed by magical overload._

This was the biggest news Harry had ever heard. His life at the Durleys was far from perfect – in fact, it bordered on abuse. The malnourishment he's endured was interfering with his magic. This was a surprise; Lupin had said in Third Year that few teenagers had ever mastered the Patronus Charm. This thought made him extremely excited: if that was what his magic was like with his underweight stature, what would happen if he was fit? What could he accomplish then?

His excited thoughts were interupted when Hedwig began hooting at him, and a series of taps resonated from his window frame. Staring out into the night, he saw the sillhouette of an owl, framed the light of the birght white moon. He quickly unlatched the window and pulled it in, letting the owl fly in and settle on the bed frame next to Hedwig. Harry admired the pretty black and white owl at first before carefully untying the envelope attached to its leg.

The Seal on the front, sealing the card, depicted two wand crossing, with a single stalk of a plant that looked like wheat in the middle. Carefully opening the envelope and taking out the concealed parchment, Harry read,

_Dear Potter,_

_I am not sure of how much you've heard, but we will have to meet on the Hogwarts Express in the third to last compartment, right when we get on. We have much to discuss. You may not know what I'm talking about, but send a reply as soon as possible._

_Answer swiftly,_

_Daphne G._

The penmanship was flawless, the signature signed with a flourish, and Harry was slightly intimidated. He had only seen fleeting glimpses of who he assumed to be Daphne Greengrass. She was, if nothing else, very pretty. Harry had never seen her in contact with Malfoy, Parkinson, or Bulstrode, only another pretty girl with brown hair. Davis, her name was.

Reading over the letter again, Harry confirmed that it had something to do with the contract the Wills had referenced to. With both excitement and fear, Harry wrote a quick reply, and tied it to Hedwig.

"Here, girl." Harry murmured lovingly. "You haven't had much action lately, and the girl's owl seems tired. You think you can make it?"

Hedwig hooted once, haughtily, and lifted her head upwards in a condescending manner, as though saying, "Of course, silly boy. What do you think I am, a songbird?"

"Oh! Don't go yet, girl. I nearly forgot." Harry said quickly, snatching out his pen and scribbling another letter that said,

_Dear Petunia Dursley,_

_My guardianship has been transferred. You won't be seeing me again, hopefully._

_With indifference,_

_Harry Potter_

Harry stood up, slid this letter into another envelope, and tied it to smiled and pet her, before send her off into the darkness, her wings disturbing the smoke coming off the candle that had been put out by the cool night air. Closing the window behind his owl, Harry sat back down in the comfortable chair at his desk and once again let his mind wander into his thoughts. Daphne Greengrass, a beautiful Slytherin, was meeting with him on the Hogwarts Express. What did this mean?

With a start, Harry realized what it meant for him. There was barely a month left of summer, and there was a beautiful girl awaiting his arrival. Sure, it most likely isn't for romantic terms, but nevertheless, Harry thought about how he should present himself. And when he thought this, he put two and two together, and stood up and went to his mirror.

Peering in, he found that he did indeed look much better without his glasses; the glasses seemed to mute his eyes just a bit, and without them, his face looked skinnier, and more mature; less little boyish. Look down at his torso, he found that yes, he was scrawny, but not overly so. With Quidditch practice and the long staircases and walks between classrooms, he was skinny, but semi-fit. He decided to fix that with lots of exercise and more protein and vegetables in his diet. Right then, he would not earn the affections of the girls at school. But with the right push, Harry Potter would become better.

And he would push himself to the limit to do so.

**OooOooO**

Daphne woke up blearily, finding herself in the comfortable, yet hard chair in front of her desk. Moving her neck side to side, trying to get rid of the ache, she concluded that she must have fallen asleep thinking about the contract. What a depressing thing to think about, too.

Opening her eyes, she was hit by a ray of sunshine coming from her open window, and she immediately closed them again. She brought her hands to her face, and found that her face was freezing. She then found that the reason for this was that her window was wide open, and the cool night air had filled her room. She then found that her room was indeed very chilly, and she closed the window.

Daphne then called out, "Tape?", there was a *pop*, and a house-elf appeared behind her.

"What can Tape do for Mistress Daphne?" Tape asked, large ears flapping against her head.

"Cast a warming charm in this room, please." Daphne said, hugging her arms to herself.

The elf did so, and Daphne dismissed her. Warmth circulated into her limbs, and she sighed in relief. Before she could continue basking in the nice temperature, there was a series of taps at her window, and she found that a beautiful snowy-white owl was at the glass.

Unlatching the window and grabbing what she assumed to be Potter's returning letter, she read it over.

_Dear Ms. Greengrass,_

_I apologize if I tired out your owl, but you did say to answer swiftly, and I have done so. I agree to meet you on the Express at the designated place, although I do not know of what you speak of. When I was read parents' Wills yesterday, however, they mentioned something about a contract. Does this have anything to do with what you wish to discuss? The Wills also mentioned that Dumbledore should inform me of what it is about by the time I get to school, but I'm hoping that you'll tell me what you know._

_Answer soon,_

_Harry P._

Reading it over, Daphne found that Potter's handwriting was decent, but could have much improvement. It seemed that this Harry Potter was far different from the way Draco and the other Slytherins portrayed him. This Harry seemed somewhat intelligent, which was, again, a giant leap from what Draco normally spoke of him as.

Despite herself, Daphne felt intrigued. Who was Harry Potter?

**OooOooO**

For the last month before school, Harry pushed himself to the limit. Everyday in the mornings, he would go on a jog around Diagon Alley, and then eat a wholesome breakfast. He would then study until lunch, where he would run again and eat again. For the rest of the day, he would alternate between studying and exercising his upper body. And for dinner, he would eat a balanced meal. Accompanying all the food he ate, he drank a glass of milk. And for the rest of the night, until he fell asleep, he studied. He was determined to do well on all of his assignments this year; the constant exercise and studying opened his eyes as to how lazy and idiotic Ron and he had been. And whenever he thought of this, the same thought would go through his head: "Sirius had died in the blink of an eye. Life is too short to laze around and eat all day." And whenever he thought this, he would push himself harder, and run a little farther each day.

Over the next four weeks, Harry noticed a definite but gradual improvement. He was slowly growing (an astounding half an inch a week), and he saw himself getting – well –_ thicker_. His legs were getting defined, as well as his arms. His torso was showing massive improvement as well: there was a faint outline of a four-pack, and his pecs were decently defined. Over all, he was toned, and far from overly muscled. Harry found the pictures in the Muggle world of massive, bulking men pretty disgusting. Harry even got magical braces; he'd found that his two front teeth jutted forward a considerable amount, although it was barely noticeable. The magical braces worked within a week, and Harry (to his embarrassment) would flash himself smiles in his mirror, and spend several minutes a day flexing, shirtless, in the same place.

And all too soon, it was the night before the riding of the Hogwarts Express, and Harry was never more excited in his life.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please, give me plot ideas, too. Tell me what you thought, and I'll upload within the next few days! Bye!

Updated 2/18/14, fixed a continuity error.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Greengrass Contract  
by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: There are several reviewer responses at the end of the chapter (Skeiron, wolf970, and bittatatat, that's for you!). By the way, I'm not including the author's notes in my initial chapter word count. For each chapter, I try to get at least 3000 words. So don't complain that the author's note took up the story's word count, because it hasn't, and it won't.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Reactions**

* * *

"Betrothed?" Tracey Davis gasped. "When? Why? To who? Don't tell me it's _Malfoy_?"

Daphne put her head in her hands, clutching her hair. They were currently in Daphne's room, with Jesse back in her usual spot. They were both seated at Daphne's bed. Daphne was drinking some tea and Tracey was sitting next to her, staring open-mouthed at said girl. It was early morning, and Tracey had arrived later than she had expected. With only a day to go until the boarding of the Hogwarts Express, Daphne was desperate to have at least some prior knowledge of her betrothed before their meeting. If Daphne stuck out for anything, it was her confident, condescending persona that everyone believed to be her real personality (except Tracey and Blaise, of course). Her 'Ice Queen' title was not earned through pleasant chats, nor goofy smiles. Unfortunately, her persona did nothing to discourage the advances of Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott (who was a nice boy, but was slightly taken up in the pure-blood elitist ideas, and was also pretty overweight).

"Thank Merlin it's not." Daphne sighed. "If it were, I'd have swum all the way to France, where his ancestors are still milking their cows."

Tracey laughed, and inquired again, "So, who is the one who you shall tie the knot with?"

"Tracey!" Daphne hissed, but there was a tug at the corner of her mouth. "This is not funny! Or anything good, for that matter?"

Tracey's eyes widened in mock-terror. "It's not Goyle or Crabbe, is it? There would be a silver-lining, though. You would have the cutest little gorilla babies."

Daphne punched her friend in the arm. "Dammit, Trace! You've put thoughts into my head that I may have seizures from!"

Tracey rolled around on the bed laughing. "And – if – it were – with – Draco, you could make – cute – little – albino rodents!"

Daphne choked on her tea, half from disgust and half from a chortle that was making its way to her face. Tracey was still laughing, hard. "I – won't – even – get – started on – Theo and your - walrus babies!"

At this, Daphne couldn't contain her laughter, and she too, laughed with her friend. After several minutes, they calmed down, and Daphne lapsed back into sadness again. Tracey looked at her seriously. "Sorry, Daph, but you needed that release."

Daphne sighed. "Yeah. I did." They sat in silence for half a minute, before Tracey became too agitated.

"So, who is it?" Tracey asked. Daphne didn't answer for a while, but she finally said,

"Potter. It's the damn Golden Gryffindor." Daphne let out. Tracey's eyebrows went up.

"You didn't hear? Harry Potter's gone missing!" Tracey exclaimed, and Daphne perked up.

Tracey continued, "It happened during early August. Dumbledore went to check on him at his Muggles' house, and he wasn't there! They said some rubbish about Potter running away, but Dumbledore wasn't allowed to check with Legilimency. He's been searching Surrey for a month."

Daphne knit her eyebrows. "Potter lives with Muggles? Alright, Trace, back up. I need you to spill everything you know about Potter right now. Go."

"Okay, so apparently, Potter lived with his Muggle aunt, uncle, and cousin until he was 11. When he was 11, he first learned about magic, and came then went to Hogwarts. Those baggy clothes he wears? Those are most likely hand-me-downs, from his cousin. No else knows very much about his home life, not even Granger, but I think Weasley knows something. He said some rubbish about Potter being jailed in his own room, but Potter's very secretive about what he does over the summer and things. Anyway, when he first came to Hogwarts, he was super skinny and short, but no one knows why. And then there were those stories about how he killed Quirrell, and then the basilisk, and then his godfather was the mass murderer who got killed by dementors. That last part might be true, since we all saw him do that Patronus at one of the Quidditch games. That was amazing. He started growing a bit at the end of last year, too. I have a feeling he's probably taller than Granger and Weasley now, even though Weasley's lanky as hell. As for Potter's romantic life, he's barely had any action at all. I heard that he has a little group of admirers, biggest of which is the girl Weasley, and I heard that the little boy Gryffindor, Creevey, is gay, and has a crush on Potter. Bit creepy, if you ask me. Took pictures of him in Second Year and whatnot."

Daphne blinked at Tracey in surprise. "How the bloody hell did you know all of that?" and Tracey shrugged.

"You and I both know we started getting interested in the male population last year. I mean, you did plenty of research on the Ravenclaw you dated. Who was it?"

"Terry Boot, but it didn't work out, since he was a wimp when it came to asking me out to Hogsmeade. In fact, most of the boys in our year are still sissies when it comes to talking to us girls. And you dated Michael Corner, right?"

"Right. But whenever we'd go to Hogsmeade, he'd just go hang out with his friends and leave me." Tracey responded. "But enough of that! What are you going to do about Potter?"

Daphne shrugged helplessly. "I'm going to meet with him on the train -"

"Oh, want a good snog already? Boot wasn't good enough? You did snog a couple times, I remember -"

"You're one to talk! You broke up with Corner because his hands kept venturing too far south." Daphne retorted. Tracey glowered.

"Yeah. That pervert. But we keep going off topic, dammit! What are you gonna talk about with Potter?"

"I'll tell him about the contract."

"He doesn't know yet?"

"No, how would he? He replied to my letter saying that his parent's Will just referenced it."

Tracey whistled. "Daphne, this is an amazing opportunity to mold Potter into the perfect guy."

"What?"

"Open your eyes! He's famous, powerful, and most likely easily manipulated! I've also heard that he's pretty compassionate. You two'll be a nice match -"

"No, we won't! We're polar opposites!"

"Exactly. I reckon Weasley and Granger'll end up together. Their complete opposites, and they bicker a lot, but they steal glances at each other all the time. I won't be surprised when -"

"Enough about that! What should I do with Potter?" Daphne cried. Tracey shrugged.

"Get to know him. Your heart may never open up to him, but your mind can. The sooner you two warm up to each other, the sooner you can snog – I mean, be happy."

Daphne sighed, and put her head in her hands again. "Well, I'll wing it, then. If what you've said is true, he'll be as more clueless than I am."

Tracey nodded. "That's the spirit! And you can teachhim how to snog, just the way you like!"

Daphne's response was a punch to the arm and another cold look.

**OooOooO**

His greatest enemy. The protagonist of his life. Again, Harry found himself thinking of this as he leaned against a tan, stone arch. Although the early September sky was bright, blue, and cloudless above the glass ceiling of King's Cross Station, it was slightly chilly, and Harry flipped up his hoodie. Harry had decided, before arriving, that he would wait and see what Daphne actually looked like before entering Platform 9¾. His vague memories were far from ideal when he sought to remember the face of the Slytherin girl.

King's Cross Station was a very pretty place, with its massively high ceilings and train whistles going off in the distance. Crossing his arms, he, watched the hurrying throngs of Muggles, seeking their next destination as quickly as possible. His thoughts wandering back to its main train, Harry decided that no Muggle was his enemy. Sure, the Dursleys were bad (on the border of abusive), but Harry dealt with such bigotry at Hogwarts, too. The Malfoys were just as bad, but then again, they weren't the ones that hurt him . . .

Shaking himself from bad thoughts, he went back to his list. Dumbledore and the Dursleys were off, which meant that the Malfoy family was off, too. Next was -

Harry was wrenched from his thoughts once again when he heard the words, "Platform 9¾,"

Looking in the direction of the sound, he found a little, nervous family of three; a mother, father, and a little eleven year old with a large trolley in front of her. Harry felt sorry. This youngster was obviously Muggle-born, and was just as lost and confused as Harry had been on his first time. Pitying the child, Harry walked over and knelt down slowly, flipping off his hood, so that the kid could see Harry was clearly not trying to attack her. Her parents were distracted, looking around them, trying to find some help.

"Hey. Are you going to Hogwarts this year?" Harry murmured.

The kid, wide-eyed, nodded. Harry felt the urge to smirk, but held it in.

"I can show you how to get onto the Platform, if you like." Harry said, and the kid nodded again, a smile of relief forming on her features. Harry straightened up, getting the parents' attention, and spoke to them,

"Is your daughter going to Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked quietly. Although not widely known, the Statute of Secrecy said that one wasn't even supposed to speak of magic with Muggles near you, but Harry figured that if he spoke quietly enough, the Muggles would be too busy to give them a second glance. Entering into his first year, Harry was very lucky that Molly Weasley was not aware of that particular Clause in the Statute, otherwise Harry might never had made it onto the Express.

The parents looked absolutely relieved. "Thank God there's a wizard here -" The man said, exasperated, but Harry quickly put a finger to his own lips.

"Statute of Secrecy. We can't talk that loudly, or the other Muggles might here." Harry said in a quiet tone, and the man shut his mouth, quickly. Harry smiled and nodded.

"I can take your daughter through, if you like." Harry said. "It's simple, but you can't come with. Unfortunately, only those with magic in their blood can pass the wall, so you should say your goodbyes right now."

The parents hugged the girl and wished her goodbye and the like, and when they were done, Harry held out his hand for the girl to take. She took it cautiously, and Harry said in her ear, "Don't be scared. We're going to walk into the wall, and everything will go dark for a second, but just keep holding my hand, alright?"

The girl paled slightly but nodded again. Harry nodded to the parents, who thanked him over and over, and Harry took the trolley from her, saying that he'll push it for her.

Without another word, Harry walked confidently towards the wall, with the girl in nervous tow. When they were several feet from the wall, the girl fidgeted, but held on nevertheless. When they finally hit the wall, everything went dark for a second, and suddenly, they were in another place: an identical copy of one side of King's Cross, but this train was black and red, with large headlights and wizards in robes rushing around it.

Looking back, Harry found that the girl had her eyes squeezed shut, and was holding her breath, and Harry laughed. "It's alright, kid, we're there."

The girl let out an awe-inspired gasp, and looked all around her. Whispering, "How did you do that?" Harry laughed again. He put a finger to his lips. "It's a secret," was his reply. "what's your name, by the way?"

The girl answered, "Natalie McDonald," as Harry pulled her forward and pushed her trolley.

"That's pretty, but not as pretty as mine. Harry Potter, at your service." Harry said cheekily, and the girl giggled. Harry stopped at the side of the tracks and wheeled her trolley up next to the line of several others, explaining to Natalie that they would be transported magically to Hogwarts.

Leading the girl onto the train, he gestured down the long hallway. "You can go find a compartment with some of the other first years. Tell me if any bother you. If anyone calls you 'mudblood', come to me immediately so I can whip him into shape,"

The girl giggled again, and Harry held out his hand. The small girl placed hers in his tentatively, and Harry bent down and kissed it. "Pleasure to be of service."

The girl giggled one last time before rushing off down the hallway.

And from behind him, he heard, "Potter, move along. Third compartment from the last."

**OooOooO**

Daphne walked down the hallway confidently, clearing her mind as to prepare the right responses for their conversation. The boy in front of her, his back facing her, was several inches taller than the Harry Potter that had left on the Express last Year. That, and he was – thicker. He sported broader shoulders, with nice-fitting clothes and slim jeans. Daphne shivered. She had hoped that she'd be at least his height, so that Potter would be at the disadvantage, having to look up at her and loose confidence.

She watched as Potter ushered the kid down the hall gently. Tracey was right; he seemed nice enough. Mustering her courage and putting on her emotionless mask, saying, "Potter, move along. Third compartment from the last."

Harry whipped around, and Daphne could finally study the important half of Potter's body. His glasses were gone, and he was more tan than any other student she'd seen on the train. His teeth were perfectly straight, and his hair was messy as hell, but somehow made him seem rugged. He was not necessarily 'muscled' but more toned int the upper body, and his slim jeans fit him very well. Daphne now remembered, to her extreme embarrassment (and to his, if he found out), that Potter's arse was quite the looker. His green eyes was the main piece of his face: they were bright and sparkling, and went with his green and black hoodie very nicely.

Harry's eyes dimmed slightly when he recognized her, and the smile fell from his lips, to be replaced with an uncertainty that mirrored what Daphne was feeling at the moment. He nodded at her, "Greengrass," and walked down to their designated compartment. Passing several Gryffindors ("Why is a Slytherin following Harry?") and Slytherins ("What is Daphne following the Golden Boy for?"), Harry and Daphne stopped at the sliding door. Seeing that a girl was already in it, Harry looked questioningly at Daphne, and Daphne just nodded and gestured into the compartment. "Not scared of a couple more girls, are you, Potter?"

Surprisingly, Potter didn't say anything, and just slid open the door and entered the compartment. Daphne was mildly surprised. From what she'd heard, Potter couldn't keep his mouth shut when people ridiculed him, but apparently, that, too, has changed.

Stepping in, and sliding the door behind her, Daphne stepped and sat across from her betrothed, next to Tracey.

The minute the door was closed, Harry's wand appeared in his hand, he murmured a privacy spell on the door, and he turned on the girls.

"Alright, what the hell is going on? What do you want?" Harry asked demandingly, but not gruffly. Daphne and Tracey were taken aback, expecting Harry to be more stammer-y and blush-y. Tracey immediately sought to find dominance in the conversation.

"The same could be asked of you, Potter. What's the privacy charm for? Expecting a good snog?" Daphne silently approved of Tracey's tactic to try and unbalance the boy, but Harry saw it coming. With only a slight tint of pink to his cheeks, Harry shrugged and said, "Greengrass was secretive in her letter, so I suspect she won't want this thing to go around the masses."

Tracey stared at him for a long while, and then nodded. Then, in an over-exaggerated nudging of Daphne, she whispered loudly, "I like him. You better tell him the secret now."

Daphne glared at her, and Harry was further confused. "What's this about, then? I have to meet with my friends."

Daphne sighed, and remorsefully said, "Potter, you and I are betrothed."

Harry's demanding and confident demeanor vanished immediately. Instead of stammering, he opened his mouth and no sound came out. "Wha – oh, that's funny. Malfoy must have thought this absolutely hilarious. Well, you can tell him that I won't fucking stand for him anymore. If he touches any of my friends, I'll rip him limb from limb."

Getting up to go, Daphne commanded him to sit down. Harry stopped, and then glared at her. "Alright, then, prove that you're not lying. Why should I believe that my father, who married a supposed mudblood, agreed to something that only the old wizarding families do to gain political power and money."

Daphne was shocked at the knowledge Harry portrayed. "I swear on my magic that you are betrothed to the first-born girl of House Greengrass. So mote it be."

To Harry's horror, a flash of light surrounded Daphne, and when it disappeared, the Slytherin was glaring at him defiantly. "Well? Good enough for you?"

Harry growled colorful language under his breath. Sitting down, he clenched and unclenched his fists as Daphne still glared at him. "Don't look so alone about this, Potter. You're not the only one unhappy with this shit."

Harry closed his eyes and growled something about, "One goddamn normal year. Is that so much to fucking ask?"

When he had calmed down, Daphne expected him to begin to rant, but instead, he just pierced her with his searching green eyes and said coldly, "Well, what's the plan, oh Ice Queen?"

Daphne glared at him more defiantly. "Listen, Potter. The only way this will work is if we work together on it."

Harry glared at her, and a green fire erupted in his eyes. He stood up and slammed the compartment door open, saying to Daphne, "Talk to me later. I don't have the patience for this bullshit."

* * *

A/N: There is a deeper meaning behind why I added Natalie McDonald into this chapter. In real life, Natalie McDonald was a young Canadian fan of the novels with a terminal illness, leukemia. A friend of her mother's wrote to J. K. Rowling to ask her to write to Natalie. J.K. Rowling did not receive the letter until after a holiday, and though she admits to fearing it was "too late", wrote back, telling Natalie what happens to each of the main characters, only to find out from Natalie's mother that she had passed away. The reason I added this is because my friend recently passed away due to leukemia, and I felt that I should add this in, out of respect for him.

_bittatatat_: I'm sorry to say that I will not venture into the harem zone, because that is far too OOC for me. In the books, there would be absolutely no way Harry would ever consider having a harem. And though I understand that the Harry I will mold to my liking will be different, he won't be different enough to marry/have a relationship with more than one girl. Although your plot idea is a good one, and I most likely will use bits and pieces of it, I won't use that whole timeline. Thanks for putting so much thought into it, though!

_Skeiron_: First, let me tell you that you've put up my favorite kind of review: informative, detailed, and pointing out my errors. :)

Before everything else, let me thank you for pointing out that continuity error regarding Daphne's owl. Those are the kinds of small things that I miss often, and I'm thankful that you didn't flame me for it.

I agree with you; I also dislike how FF authors spend so much time having the protagonist develop a unique set of skills and then seldom use them in the actual story (although I'm being very hypocritical; In my other Harry Potter story, Wandlore, I'd included Harry being a metamorphmagus, and I've recently realized that he'll barely use it in the rest of the story). Although I haven't planned on Harry doing any such thing, you've made me aware of it, so thank you.

Thanks for referring to Doug's list, too. That's helped me out quite a bit in me forming my plot ideas.

I'm glad to see you'd like to read more of Harry's list; I first put it in these because it gets all my writing juices flowing, but now it also provides me with something to write about a) when Harry is just thinking, b) when there is a long lull in the action, c) when I've hit writers block, and d) To start out the story, I wanted everyone to know that Dumbledore isn't the classic manipulative old bastard that so many stories make him out to be. I want to take a different route, where Dumbledore realizes his mistakes and seeks to correct them. Also, the list has created a large template from which I can base the theme of the story, and the list will also play a large roll in the rest of Harry's life.

As for the expanding of scenes, that is the one thing that I'm actively attempting to improve on. The only problem is that my patience is driven thin when I try to extend a scene for more than a couple thousand words, even though I love to write them. Also, I do end up venturing into the long contemplation on life and death when I try. If you have any further tips for this particular challenge, please, do tell! I feel that if I pass this obstacle, I can really improve my writing skills a massive amount (since I'm a teenager, if I get this out of the way now, I have years of possible improvement ahead of me).

If you haven't read my other stories, then please, don't. Compared to this, their absolute rubbish. I'm thinking about deleting several.

I'm really sorry if I bored you to death, but your amazing review provoked me to write a long response, and I just realized that I've spent far to much time on this and should probably start writing the third chapter. Thanks again!

_wolf970_: Don't worry, I intend to keep Harry a bit secretive, even if it ruins his friendships a tiny bit (a lot). Yes, I will slightly bash Ron. Sadly, I will have to follow cannon, but there will be an abundance of things on the side to keep hings new and exciting.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Greengrass Contract**

**by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: There will be a couple reviewer responses at the end of the chapter. IMPORTANT: when you guys review, can you please tell me about how long you want the chapters to be? At the moment, they are between 3,000-4,100, but tell me if they're too brief or too stretched. From now on, I plan to actually have things happen in the chapters. In this one, it'll be very extra long. Almost 5000 words. Let's go!

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Meeting**

* * *

As he stormed out of the small compartment and canceled the privacy charm, Harry considered that he had been too abrupt, and that their conversation probably should have been longer, but he quickly discarded this. With the stress of the upcoming school year (in which Harry planned to do exceedingly well), he wanted as little distractions as possible. And less importantly, Harry wanted to test the waters in the dating scene. Sirius' death had proven that life was indeed short, even from a wizard's point of view, and Harry wanted to make the most of it.

But the bomb that had been dropped on him weighed heavily on his mind. How could he date nice girls when there was a particularly cold one betrothed to him? Sure, Greengrass was pretty, but this meant nothing to Harry – in fact, he decided that Greengrass's beauty was the (for lack of better analogy) the frosting on a deceptively tasty poisonous cake.

For the second time that day, Harry was wrenched from his thoughts when he found that he had stumbled into someone. Faltering in his steps but catching the victim in the process, Harry hoisted the student up by the forearm. Blue eyes and red hair met green eyes and black, and Harry blinked in recognition.

"Ron? There you are!" Harry said, hoping that the redhead hadn't noticed him and Greengrass entering the compartment for their talk, but the redhead was not fooled so easily.

"Harry? Blimey, what happened to you? Where were you last month? And why were you with a Slytherin? Come on, Hermione and I have been looking for you for the past ten minutes!"

Harry allowed himself to be dragged back up the hallway and into a compartment that contained several other people. Hermione looked up from her book and blinked at Harry as he sat down, taking a moment to recognize her friend. "Harry? Where have you been? The papers were raging about you running away! And what's happened to you?"

Harry snorted lightly as he accepted a hug from the bushy-haired girl. "Well, thanks. I can see that my new look is well-beloved by those I call friends."

Ron chuckled as Harry slapped one of the other members of the compartment, Neville, on the back. The formerly pudgy Gryffindor smiled nervously. Neville had also changed considerably over the summer; although his round face remained, Neville had lost what seemed to be a lot of weight. "How're you doing, Nev? You've grown over the summer, too? Why aren't the others raging over your new look?"

Neville blushed and muttered a, "Thanks," as the Express began moving at a slow pace. Harry looked over at the corner to Ginny, who was sitting next to Hermione. The redhead had also grown tall and lanky, but now the girly-ness was slowly disappearing from her face, revealing a sharp nose and bright eyes. Hoping not to embarrass her, Harry gave her a side-hug, to which she accepted gratefully.

"How are all of you doing? What'd you do over break?" Harry asked, attempting to divert Ron's previous questions to themselves, but Ron was stubborn.

"First let's start with you, mate! You disappeared for a month, and then appear here, with a slimy snake, not to mention your new look! Where were you?" Ron cried, and Harry sighed internally.

"For the last month, I decided that I'd had enough of my relatives, and I went to Diagon Alley to see if I could switch my guardianship. The results are still pending, though. Anyway, I started to working out when I read in a book that your fitness directly influences your magic."

Hermione and Ron's jaws dropped open. The former cried, "Which book?" and the latter exclaimed, "You read?"

Ron's response sent a small twinge of anger up Harry's spine, but he chose to ignore it. "It's a Guide to Magical Theory, Hermione, I can lend it to you when we get to school. And Ron, I did read, because I intend to improve my grades this year. I'm dropping Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, and I'm taking up Arithmancy and Runes. I figure that I'm already a master at Muggle Studies, and my current two classes are next to useless. Hagrid's a decent teacher, but the creatures he brings in are not relevant to what we might actually have to deal with."

Hermione was ecstatic as the news, while Ron seemed slightly more sullen. "Can I borrow your notes, too, Hermione? I'm a bit behind, but I think I read enough about it this summer . . ."

Ron shivered and weakly tried to pull a joke. "Starting to sound like Hermione, mate."

There was silence, and Harry looked at him, his anger rising a tiny bit. "What's so bad about that?"

Ron blushed tomato red and stammered, "I – didn't mean -"

He was saved quickly by Hermione, who said, "It doesn't matter. Anyway, what did Ron say about you with a Slytherin?"

At this, Ron's anger rose. This was something he could lash out at Harry with for making him look like a jerk, and so said, "Yeah, Harry. What are you doing with a slimy Slytherin?"

Harry glared at him, and the tension in the room thickened. "Ron, don't generalize. Not all Slytherins are bad, just like not all Gryffindors are good."

Ron scoffed, not backing down. "Name one -"

"Peter Pettigrew." Harry replied immediately, coldness seeping into his voice. Ron shivered slightly, the tension thickening further. After what Harry felt to be a nice, threateningly long silence, he continued in the same tone, "And to answer your question, we discussed something -"

"What?"

"- that is none of your bloody business." Harry finished. Ron looked lost for a second, and looked to Hermione for help, but she, too, was glaring at him. Defeated, the redhead slumped back in his seat. Deciding to rub it in a little further, Harry continued, "In fact, I'll be back. I have to finished our discussion.

As Harry swept out, Ron sighed. "Wow, Harry's in a bad mood today. I wonder what set him of -"

Hermione sniffed and lifted her head. "Shut up, Ron."

"Wha -?"

"You're the one that provoked him. First, you insulted his intelligence, then you trash both of us, and then you challenge him again. Dammit Ron, it's none of your business to know who he talks to!"

"I'm his best mate -"

"Not for long!" Hermione snarled. "If you keep acting like this, you might as well leave now."

Ron opened his mouth, and then closed it, shocked at being shot down by his only female friend. With false defiance, the redheaded boy got up and stormed out the sliding door, heading the opposite way that Harry had gone.

Hermione sighed. "I feel so bad . . ."

"Don't. He's been acting that way all summer ever since the money we won in the lottery got stolen. He's disappointed that he didn't get to go to the World Cup." Ginny defended her. Neville nodded.

"Give them time to cool down. They make up in the end." Neville says, but Hermione shrugs.

"I suspect that this time will be different." She said quietly.

**OooOooO**

Harry froze outside of the compartment in which he had met up with the Slytherins. He had heard voices, and vaguely heard Daphne's voice say, "I'll be back, I'm going to the loo."

Acting quickly, Harry slid open the nearest door and slipped inside, and just in time. Daphne stepped out of the third to last compartment and passed Harry's hiding compartment. Sighing with relief, he turned and said to whomever was there, "Sorry about this, guys. I had to hide."

Still looking out the glass, he was spun around when a warm hand touched his. Turning, he found that the little girl he had helped was looking up at him and beaming. "Oh, hi Natalie! Having fun?"

"Absolutely!" she said. Turning on her two friends, she cried, "I told you it was Harry Potter!" as the other kids just stared at him in awe, causing Harry to internally groan.

"Sorry guys, I got to go. Have fun, Natalie, and Natalie's friends." Harry said, sliding the door back open and leaving the chorus of, "Bye, Harry!"

Harry then jogged down the hall and tried to open Daphne's compartment. It was locked, and the windows were dimmed. Harry slid out his wand and murmured, "_Alohomora_.", and slid open the door quickly, finding that Greengrass's friend and a black guy were in deep discussion. Tracey was in the middle of saying, "- they're betrothed! -" when she found the subject of their conversation was standing there. Crossing his arms and amusing himself at the shocked look on their faces, Harry said, "Planning on keeping any secrets, Davis?" (Tracey blushed), "Alright, I need you guys to tell me about Greengrass. I have to know what I'm walking into."

The black guy quickly got up and sat next to Davis as Harry sat down across from them. Tracey hesitantly began by saying, "Well – shouldn't we ask her first?", and to that Harry snorted.

"No thanks. I bet you 10 galleons that she's asked about me, and that you've given her all that you had on me. Now, please level out the playing field and enlighten me."

Tracey breathed out slowly, and said at top-speed, "Daphne's really secretive, and we're her only friends that she confides in. She comes from a wealthy pure-blood family, but she doesn't like it when people talk about her, she gets suspicious. When she's in public, she acts like what you saw, but when she's alone with us, she's gentler, but still just as smart. Don't underestimate her. She's a wonder at Potions, and is almost as good as -" (she shivers) "- Granger in all the other classes. She dated her first boy last year, but they broke up because Boot was a wimp when it finally came to going on dates. When she's alone in her room, she likes to -"

Harry held up his hands. "Don't say anymore, Davis. I'm surprised and a little disappointed that you'd give away your friend's life like that. And let me tell you now, that I have no interest in knowing about her bedroom habits, thank you very much."

Tracey smiled weakly. "Sorry, I ramble. But I, too, am a little surprised and disappointed that you don't want to know Daphne's bedroom habits. She needs a good snog fest, and so do you."

Harry snorts and says, "You don't know anything about me, Davis."

"Oh, you want to bet, Potter?"

At that moment, the door slid open, revealing a suspicious Daphne. "What are you doing here, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes as Daphne sat down next to Tracey. "Oh, nothing. Davis here was just about to tell me what you do alone in the bedroom."

Daphne hissed in anger and turned on Tracey, who threw her hands up in the air. "I was just kidding! I was gonna end the joke by saying something like, 'she reads'. Don't freeze me to death, O Ice Queen!"

Daphne relaxed a bit, and Harry laughed. "You gave ground much to quickly for a Slytherin, Davis. I am both surprised and disappointed that you don't live up to your house name."

Tracey shrugs while Daphne bristles. "You just as bad as Weasley, Potter? Going to assume all of us evil and Gryffindors are all goody-two-shoes, eh?"

Harry looks off out the window for a moment. The landscape of northern Scotland was lush and green, with trees growing along the rolling hills of grass. Harry mumbled, "No. I made that mistake last year, and it won't happen again."

There was silence as the three Slytherins tried to figure out what the boy meant.

After several moments, Harry looked back and pierced Daphne with his bright green eyes. "Greengrass, meet me in front of the statue of Gregory the Swarmy, on the fifth floor corridor, tomorrow night at around 6 o'clock, two hours before curfew."

Tracey wolf-whistled. "Already wanting to get to the snogging? I thought we discussed this!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Says the person who will most likely try to convince her to snog me."

To that, Tracey had to agree, and so the conversation ended with Harry leaving the compartment, seeking refuge away from the Slytherins and Gryffindors alike.

**OooOooO**

Night had fallen when the train came to an abrupt stop. All members of the compartment were jolted in their seats, and Harry grinned when one of the girls rubbed their head in pain. They had all gotten dressed several minutes earlier (in turns, of course), and the First Years were dressed in the traditional Hogwarts robes with a gray tie and an empty emblem on their chest, while Harry had his newly fitted black, red and gold robes on.

The moon shown in through the window and sent rays of white light through the nervous-looking First Years. Harry patted Natalie on the head assuringly.

"Don't be scared, Natalie. To get Sorted, you just have to put on a Hat and it tells you what House you'll be in." Harry said gently, and the other students sagged in relief.

"Some twins told us earlier that we'd have to fight a troll to be in Gryffindor." Natalie said, breathing out. Harry snorted.

"Those are the Weasley twins. Don't talk to them too long, or you'll get a headache. Also, don't anger them. They're the supreme pranksters of the school, but their nice to those who are nice to them."

Five minutes later, Harry stepped outside of the train, free of the First Years. Breathing in what was finally not stuffy, hot air, Harry scanned the supposedly self-pulled carriages. Seeing one that was not all the way full (and didn't have a particular redheaded Gryffindor on it), Harry jogged up and found the three students upon it watching him, openmouthed. That is, two of them; the other, a blonde girl in the year below Harry's, simply kept reading a newspaper that was upside down and murmured, "Hello, un-bespectacled boy." Pretending not to be unnerved, Harry smiled at them, and said, "Hey, girls. Is there any room?"

The two girls (twins) quickly assured him that there was much space left and that they would be very happy if he sat with them, and Harry obliged. The twins looked Indian, and Harry greeted them formally by taking their hands and pressing his lips against their knuckles. Wary of the blonde, Harry said, "Hello. Of course, I know Parvarti and Padma Patil, two of the most beautiful girls in our year, but I haven't met you. What's your name?"

The blonde girl put down her newspaper slowly and smiled. She had massive pink and purple glasses on, and her magnified eyes behind them looked big and distant. "Luna Lovegood, or as some people call me, Looney."

Harry frowned, and the girl smiled at him more. "It's quite alright, you don't have to say anything. I can tell what you were about to say. You know, Harry, you have much less Nargles than you did last year. What happened?"

One Patil twins, Parvarti, (on the verge of drooling) said almost dreamily, "Yeah, what happened? I'd like some."

Her sister giggled and nudged her as Parvarti blushed furiously. They both had matured at what seemed to be exactly the same rate, and they were both extremely cute. But (to Harry's frustration), neither of them held a candle to the icy beauty of a certain Slytherin. Thinking this, Harry mentally slapped himself. He would not be happy about the contract!

Brushing away his insecurities, Harry explained what he had done over the summer, obviously leaving out any major details concerning a certain contract. When he talked about his morning runs, Padma blurted if she could come and watch him. Blushing as furiously as her sister, she slapped her hands over her mouth, and Harry laughed.

"You can, but I get up at seven. If you think I'm -" (Harry flipped his hair jokingly, and the twins laughed) "- worth it, you're welcome to watch."

Parvarti nodded knowingly. "It's alright, Padma and I are used to getting up early, especially in the summer to do yoga stretches."

Less than appropriate thoughts flashed through Harry's mind, but he quickly brushed the perverted ideas away. "Well, I'd be happy to have you. You can even run with me if you want."

The twins squealed at this, and the four continued to talk in peasant conversation until the carriages stopped and they hopped off the carriages and onto the ground in front of Hogwarts. As always, it was large and looming, and though not 'grim', it definitely had a serious feeling about it. Torches lit up the turrets like beacons and the hundreds of window flashed and moved with activity. 'Home sweet home,' Harry thought. 'What a nice place to finish my list.'

**OooOooO**

Cold feelings towards Ron were especially visible when Harry was seated at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. To his right was Neville, and to his left was Hermione, and to her left was Ron, but Hermione (bless the girl) was doing her best to speak as little as possible to said boy.

When he had first walked in, Harry had immediately been pierced by the Headmaster's cool blue gaze. When Harry looked back at him, the old man seemed to sag with relief, and Harry snorted. Most likely he'd want to speak with him before he went to bed, which was fine with Harry. He had several things to say to the Supreme Mugwump.

But the Headmaster wasn't the only one staring at the Boy-Who-Lived. To his disgust, almost half the student population whipped around in their seats to see the lost (and returned) Savior. After gaping and pointing, they began whispering. Harry didn't want anything to do with whatever they were saying.

The Sorting went by rather quickly (Harry was determined to remember the look on Natalie's face when the Hat had cried, "Gryffindor!"), and when the food had appeared, Harry's disgust for his ex-best mate increased when Ronald dug in like a starved piglet. This increased Harry's hate, too, as he thought to himself, '_You don't know the meaning of starved, you pampered brat._' Harry then separated himself from the fatty foods and gone for the ones rich in protein and nutrients. And instead of pumpkin juice, he found a cup of milk sitting on his placemat, and Harry silently thanked Dobby for his loyalty. Unfortunately, his appetite was ruined when he saw bits of chocolate fly from Ronald's full mouth as he talked to Dean across from him.

When they had finished their feast (Ronald had stashed several extra treacle tarts in his robes), Dumbledore stood up and did what seemed like an X-Ray scan on all the students.

"So! Now that we are all fed and watered, I must ask for your attention while I give a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has, this year, been extended to include Screaming yo-yo's, fanged frisbees and Ever Bashing Boomerangs. The full list compromises some four hundred and thirty seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anyone would like to check it." (the Weasley twins whooped with laughter and the said caretaker glared murderously at them)

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest is out of bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all those below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year." Outrage spread and it took several minutes to quiet everyone down. As he waited, Harry noticed that Dumbledore popped something red and werewolf-shaped into his mouth and sucking on it with saggy cheeks. When things had quieted, Dumbledore stored the candy in one of his cheeks and continued,

"This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

Suddenly, the animated night sky above everyone's heads flashed gray, and lightning flashed through the Hall. As students screamed, there was a ball of red light that flew up into the ceiling, causing it to suddenly stop and look again like the night sky. Everyone followed the path of the spell to a scar-covered man with a massive fake eye, stomping up to the Head's table with a wooden leg. Dumbledore too this into step ("May I introduce our new DADA teacher, Professor Moody."), and continued with his previous train of thought.

"As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, and event which has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Tri-Wizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

As chaos erupted over the students, Harry lapsed into thought. Hopefully, this Tournament would not interfere with his schoolwork and general plan for the year. Having read about the Tournament, Harry continued to be distant until he was jolted back into the waking world by Hermione. Dumbledore was still going -

"- and the other schools will be arriving in two day's time. Please represent our school in a courteous way."

Having finished his horridly long speech, Dumbledore ordered them all to their respective common rooms, but Harry broke off from the rest of the Gryffindors halfway to their dorms to go and meet with Dumbledore. As he walked through the long stone halls, Harry felt at peace for a moment, and his mind lapsed into a deep train of thought. As a result, he almost ran into his Head of House when he turned a corner, and McGonagall looked at him (having grown, Harry was now level with McGonagall, and so didn't feel as vulnerable under her gaze) in suspicion. "Mr. Potter, what are you doing? You should be back in the common rooms; I was just on my way to give the First Years the speech!"

"Sorry, Professor McGonagall." Harry said respectfully. "I was just headed to the Headmaster's office to have a nice long chat with him."

McGonagall nodded in understanding after several seconds. "Good idea, Mr. Potter. He's been rather moody lately, and reminded me to tell you that he'd want to see you in his office tomorrow. Good luck. I trust you can find your way back?"

Harry smirked, remembering his first Transfiguration class. "Yes, Professor McGonagall. You don't need to turn me into a map to do so."

McGonagall smiled. "Good boy."

And with that, she walked off, and Harry soon found himself in front of the Headmaster's gargoyle. After thinking through possible passwords, Harry remembered the Feast, and confidently said, "Werewolf Watermelon Drops."

The gargoyle seemed to smile as it turned, revealing the staircase to the old man's office. Stepping up the staircase, and knocking on the large wooden door, Harry contemplated what he would say. He never finished this thought, however, for Dumbledore's voice said, "Come in." and Harry obliged.

Walking in confidently and ignoring the random bits and bobs twirling and twisting on the desk in front of Dumbledore, who was in turn in front of a semi circular bookcase that extended up 15 feet. Fawkes the Phoenix squawked in greeting, while Dumbledore sighed. "Ah! Harry, thank Merlin. Where were you, m'boy? Care for a lemon drop?"

Harry sat down in the large fluffy chair facing the Headmaster and said coolly, "I've been in Diagon Alley at the Leaky Cauldron. And no thanks, I don't want to risk getting spiked with Truth Potion and/or Calming Draught."

Dumbledore was shocked, to say the least. Where had the little boy, a nervous wreck, gone? Who was this confident, handsome young man in front of him?

"I'm shocked that you'd think I'd do something like that, Harry." Dumbledore sighed. "Why did you go, and how did you get there? I was worried about you."

Harry snorted at the last comment. "Well, you don't know me very well. I went because I'd had enough of my relatives, and they'd had enough of me. I used the Knight Bus to get there, just like last year."

Dumbledore processed this information. "Harry, m'boy, you could have brought your concerns to me. Also, what did you do there? What potions did you take to get like this, and what motivated you to do so?"

Harry snorted again Dumbledore's questionnaire way of speaking. "Yeah bloody right. You wouldn't have done anything about my situation. While I was there, I did some exercise and ate right for a change. I did it because I'd purchased a book that so helpfully stated that your fitness influenced your magic, which would be helpful to teach us students, by the way. Speaking of what I did in the Alley, I went to Gringotts and read my parent's and Sirius' Wills, and found something very interesting. Tell me, old man, when were you planning on informing me that I was _bound_ in a _marriage contract_?" Harry's voice rose near the end, emphasizing the last two words. Dumbledore winced at the tone.

"I was waiting for the appropriate time -"

"Appropriate time? The Wills clearly said that I was to be informed by the beginning of the school year!" Harry shouted.

"I didn't feel that you were ready Just for context, how did you find out?"

"Don't draw it away from this, Dumbledore. You and I both know that this is more serious than anything else right now. It was Greengrass, by the way."

"Greengrass? Why are you two not on first-name basis yet? I'd thought when we wrote the contract that -"

Harry spluttered in rage, and threw at him, "You _wrote_ that bloody contract?"

Dumbledore paled, but nodded. "Yes, m'boy. The Greengrasses needed a way to tell everyone that they were indeed part of the Light, and no longer neutral. They wanted to be trusted in the Wizengamot again -"

Harry shook his head and breathed heavily. "Don't feed me lies, Dumbledore. The Wizengamot are filled with idiots and heads of idiot families. They'll trust anyone as long as they're in the inner circle. So can you tell me the real reason of why the bloody contract exists?"

Dumbledore didn't open his mouth, and Harry huffed in rage. "Well, then, I refuse to answer and questions you ask me until you tell me the real reason of why that bloody contract exists."

Dumbledore tried to appeal to him, "Harry, don't be so immature. Please understand that I have other responsibilities -"

"Shut it, old man. I repeat my earlier statement and wish you a good night, and a prosperous year."

With that, Harry stormed out of the room, muttering under his breath about contracts, old men, lies, how stubborn Gryffindors were, and how unfair everything was.

* * *

A/N: Hey! You! Sitting at your computer! Yeah, you! I like that black chair you're sitting on! It's nice!

IMPORTANT: Before you look at the responses, please consider again about reviewing and recommending how long you want the chapters to be. On this one, It's been extended to almost 5000 words, 2000 more than my average. Please tell!

_sarah-rose76646_: This will be explained eventually.

_Salce_: Thanks a lot for such a complimenting review! And yes, I'll incorporate Natalie as much as I can. :)

_Skeiron_: Hi again! Okay, regarding the small issue on the train, it was Dumbledore's responsibility to tell Harry, but since he hasn't been able to locate him for the past month, he's been unable to tell him. And I, too, agree that normally wizards/witches wouldn't go straight to a magical vow, but I wanted to portray Daphne as stressed and frustrated, and so wants to cut to the chase and not waste time lolling about. Hope to hear from you again!

_Cherrie-san_: Sorry if I come off as a smart-ass, but I never said that he died via drowning. He died on contact with the water, and if that hadn't killed him, the dementors would have finished him. Even if he had turned into dog form, he was still pretty far up, and the dementors must have learned by now that their prisoner can suddenly morphed into a black dog. The dementors were caught off guard when Sirius had escaped. And yes! Poor Harry . . . this will be a problem during the Second Task, don't you think? *evil laugh*

_Kenka_: My friend was very dear to me, and I would've added him in by name, but I don't want to call him out . . . it would be awkward if someone searched him and found out who I actually am in real life . . .

_jamnaz79_: Please review again and recommend how long the chapters should be! Voice your opinions, sir!

A/N: If you find reviewer responses annoying, then I'm sorry, but I love to interact with my readers as much as possible. Now go on! Enjoy some other story until the next chapter is up! Shoo!


	5. Chapter 5

**The Greengrass Contract**

**by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: There will be reviewer responses at the end of the chapter. For the guest reviews, I'll be posting the actual review, too (**in****bold**), so that they can identify themselves.

Alright, I've decided (from your helpful reviews) that the chapters (not including the author's notes) will be from the range of 4,500-7,000 words. This chapter, not including the author's notes, is a whopping 6,266 words. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Scouts and Tryouts**

* * *

Stepping up to the large painting of the Fat Lady, Harry sighed. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Lady, but I wasn't here when they told us the password, and I'm in a very bad mood right now, and if you don't let me in I'll really regret hexing your portrait."

The Fat Lady looked on at him indignantly. "Mr. Potter, I -"

Harry looked up and glared, and she sighed. "I've seen that look before. Took them forever to get the color out of the frame . . ." and (after looking left and right) she swung open, revealing the warm and comforting room that he loved.

It was big, with red walls and gold, brown, and rusty carpets. Massive fluffy chair were in a semi-circle in front of the fireplace, and a large study table was in the corner, with wooden chairs in front of it. On the opposite side of the room was a stairwell that split into two branches, towards the girls' and boys' dormitories.

Sadly, it wasn't past curfew, and there were still around a dozen students out of bed, one of which was Ron. Harry paused for a second, shifting uncomfortably when all eyes turned on him. He was about to move on to his dormitory when Ron decided to call himself out. He was sitting at a chair in front of the fire, and Hermione was sitting in the chair next to him, but was obviously trying to ignore him.

"Well, Potter? Where were you? Kissing a teacher's arse?" Ron asked venomously. Fred and George (who in a corner, talking tot Angelina and Katie, looked sharply at him, but Harry silenced them with a glare before they could reprimand their brother. Tilting his head back slightly, Harry drawled, "Actually, it was Dumbledore's arse. And that's more action that you've gotten, Ronald."

The occupants in the room chuckled, and Ron turned red. "Shut up, Potter."

"I didn't start it, twat. But I'm surprised you were able to form words around all that food you stuffed in your mouth." Harry snorted, and it was true. Ron was, in fact, still eating the Treacle Tarts he had stashed in his robes. To add to the effect, Ron's fingers were sticky with the sweet. Ron glared at him, and abruptly changed the subject to another way he could exploit Harry.

"I expect you'll try to enter the tournament, then. But you don't have to, do you? Got money spilling from your arse." Ron shot at him. Harry rolled his eyes, expecting the weak argument.

"That's called shit, Ronald. It may look like bronze, but it's not a Knut, I assure you." Harry sighed, as though speaking with a child. The room laughed, and Ron reddened, ever closer to attacking Harry. "And no, I don't want to enter the tournament. I've got enough stuff on my mind. I've decided not to be an idiot anymore, and take my studies seriously. Not just food."

Ron stood up and brandished his fists (Fred and George did as well). "Since you're always complaining about being raised by Muggles, Potter, we might as well fight the Muggle way!" Ron snarled, raising his sticky fists. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Ronald, I've never complained, and you're as about as thick as a wand. Even if you were to attack me, your twin brothers would stop your stupid arse."

Ron hissed, "Why you -" and he lunged at his ex-best mate. Before he had taken two steps, his twin brothers had grabbed his arms and hauled him back into the chair. Harry walked over and knelt so that he was at the same height as the sitting redhead, and spoke quietly.

"Listen, you prat. I am taking no shit from Snape, Dumbledore, Malfoy, or your jealous arse any more. You have one chance to apologize; and not to me, to Hermione. I love her like a sister, but you obviously don't. So if you want to have at least one chance with any bird, much less one of the prettiest and smartest, you better change your goddamn attitude, or to stay the bloody hell away from me. I expect an apology to your only female friend by tomorrow."

Harry walked briskly past him and jogged up the stairs, into the boy's dormitory. After a minute's silence, Katie Bell smacked her own head. "Damn! I forgot to tell him about the inter-school Quidditch tournament! Tryouts are tomorrow!"

Angelina patted her shoulder, and then Parvarti Patil piped up. "Oh! You can tell him tomorrow morning! He's getting up early to do a run, and he says that anyone can come along, if they want."

Subconsciously, everyone thought about their own physical form and compared it to Harry's. Katie Bell sighed. "Not saying that anyone should pull Harry into a broom cupboard, but Harry has grown into a fine specimen of perfect boy this year."

As the girls nodded their agreement, Ron snarled and pushed his brothers' hands off of his shoulders. He left, grumbling something about, "Potter gets everything, even the birds,"

Angelina then said, "I have to start picking the team this year; I can't believe I was picked to be Captain! And since Alicia's arm is broken and won't heal in time, she can't be on it."

Katie smiled and calmed her down. "It's okay, I'll help, Ann. Fred, George, get your arses over here."

The twins hurried over to them, and Angelina went into a long speech.

"Alright, for the chasers, Katie and I are a given. Problem is, even though Gryffindor is by far the best, we have to include all the other houses at least once. Since Alicia's gone, we can slip in a different person – as much as I loath to say it, Marcus Flint is the next best, after Alicia, but we'll see at the tryouts. For beaters, I think it's Fred and George by a long shot. For keeper, Herbert Fleet is the best since Oli is gone. He's really spectacular. As for seeker, we'll see if Harry wants to play. If he does, he makes it on, automatically. If not, Diggory and Chang are the next best."

Fred and George stared at her for a second, and then shook their heads. "Sorry, but -"

" - we only listened -"

" - when you said -"

" - Gred and Forge."

Angelina snorted while Katie Bell rolled her eyes. "We'll talk to Harry in the morning. Who knows? Maybe he won't want to be Seeker this year?"

They laughed at that, and Padma cut in, "Harry'll be up at seven, he said. I'm going with him, with my sister. You can only do yoga so many times, right?"

They chuckled and agreed, while Seamus, on the other side of the room, drooled at the thought of the female twins doing yoga.

**OooOooO**

Harry yawned, stretching his arms above his head as he reached his toes. He had slept shirtless with his jogging pants on, and quickly used a cleaning spell on them to get rid of the smell. He did the same with his other, less visible pieces of clothing, and pulled on a tight sleeveless t-shirt. He then grabbed his favorite beanie hat that he had gotten custom made from Madam Malkins. It was black with a green stripe on it. Though plain, Harry had grown to like it, as it covered his messy hair, and kept his ears warm. He liked his ears warm.

He left the boy's dorm quietly, as to not wake anyone up. Stepping into the bright common room, he looked out the window at the already shining sun. From the schedule Harry had learned, the sun normally rose at 6:30, which meant he wouldn't have to worry about bumping into anything.

"Are you ready?" said a voice behind him. Harry turned and grinned at Parvarti.

"You got up? Good job. Most of the boys can't get out of their beds by half past seven."

Parvarti laughed. "So, what's the destination -"

Before she could finish, Katie and Angelina rushed down the stairs. "Wait up!" Katie said. "We're coming, too. We figure that this'll help with Quidditch. It'll help increase our stamina, and it'll be a warm up for the try-outs tonight."

Harry nodded. But, looking thoughtful, he said, "This is good for Chasers, Honestly, I don't recommend Seekers to run like this. I figured out that though my reflexes are faster, I am slightly slower in the air, and I'm a bit more clumsy. So this year, I've decided to go for Chaser."

Gesturing them to come along, Harry led them out of the common room and out into the hall, where he began running at a light jog as Katie and Angelina looked shocked.

"Are you serious, Harry?" Katie asked. "You aren't going to be Seeker?"

Harry shrugged. "Nah. I'm not as good as I was last year, but Cedric is in excellent form, I've heard. And Cho would be a good substitute. As for a reserve team, Ginny would be perfect as Chaser."

Angelina looked confused. "Reserve team?"

Harry led them up several stairs. "Yeah. You know, for the people who didn't make it onto the first team. They can sub in if anyone gets hurt."

Katie blinked. "That's an amazing idea, Harry! We can give some younger students a try, and pit them against the weaker school, Beauxbatons."

Harry nodded as he stopped in front of a large wooden door, with a small knocker on the front. Reaching up and letting the girls catch their breath, he beat the knocker against the door, and the knocker animated, and said,

"If you have me, you want to share me, if you share me, you haven't got me. What am I?"

Harry suddenly blurted, "A pretty girl." The eagle knocker roared with laughter, and Katie and Angelina giggled, while Parvarti smirked and smacked Harry on the back of the head.

"'Tis true, ladies." Harry grumbled good-naturedly before looking back at the riddle. After a second, Harry smacked his head. "Oh! Damn, it's a secret. I'm an idiot."

The knocker laughed and told him to come again next time as it swung open. Harry did get inside, however, because there was already at least a dozen people there. They all looked up in shock. Padma suddenly appeared next to the door.

"Ah! Harry! Parvarti! I was just coming out! How'd you get the door open?" Padma said cheerily, hopping out. Harry was confused. "Why is everyone awake already?"

"Oh, we get up to study collectively every few days. Anyway, how'd you get in?" Padma asked, standing next to her sister. The Ravenclaws inside watched him warily as Harry closed the door. "I guessed the riddle correctly."

Padma blinked. "Oh."

Harry clutched his heart as the door closed. "I am hurt that you are shocked that I got a question right."

Padma chuckled and greeted the two other Gryffindors. Harry turned around. "Alright. Let's go. We're going around the lake twice."

Soon, they had jogged their way outside, into the cool morning air. The sky was gray with heavy clouds, but the sun peaked through holes. Harry breathed in deeply and sighed. "I love this weather."

The girls agreed, and soon they were running around the lake. Along they way, Harry gave them pointers, like to keep their elbows tucked in and their arms at their sides. Although Harry did notice that Padma and Parvarti looked extremely inviting, as they were wearing their yoga pants. Harry was thankful that he was in front of them, or he would surely make a fool of himself. Katie and Angelina were wearing what they normally wore under their Quidditch robes; skinny jogging pants, and all four of the girls were wearing loose tank-tops. After the twenty minutes of running, Harry congratulated them on jogging almost two miles, and then told them that it was time to go to the Great Hall. As there was no rule that you had to wear robes to breakfast, and only to classes and in between them, Harry decided that he could change after breakfast and before their first class, and the girls agreed.

When they reached the Great Hall, Harry found that it was already full of students, who had just woken up. Harry cast cleaning charms on his group and himself, and found that all the students were watching them, and he started walking down to the Hall, and several students began to lose interest in the arrivals. However, they stared again when Katie and Angelina kissed Harry on each cheek, and said, "Thanks, Harry. Fancy a run again tomorrow?"

Harry just nodded stupidly as the girls giggled and went to their respective spots next to their friends. Padma also kissed him on the cheek, and Harry sighed. "Please, no more! Are you trying to turn me red?" He cried, pretending to be distressed. Padma laughed and went to her own table. Harry smiled at Parvarti and gestured across from himself, where she sat. Lavender Brown quickly sat next to her and bombarded her with questions, while Harry sat next to Hermione across from them. Neville claimed his seat on his other side, and Ginny next to Neville. Neville wolf-whistled at Harry. "Harry, some action early in the year, mate? You're going straight in!"

People around him laughed, as did Harry. "I guess." Harry replied modestly. Grabbing some healthy breakfast, Harry looked across the Ravenclaw table to see Daphne Greengrass staring at him venomously. Harry shivered. The icy cold stare his betrothed gave him sent chills down his spine, but it was accompanied with a pleasurable sensation in his chest. What was wrong with him?

When they had finished, McGonagall went around, handing out schedules. Looking at it, Harry found that there was no Potions today; first double Charms, then DADA, and then Lunch. After that, they had the rest of the day free, due to the Quidditch tryouts. Harry smiled. Today would be very fun.

**OooOooO**

Harry stepped into the Charms classroom with Hermione, Parvarti, and Neville, and studied the new desk layout. The desks were in groups of three to a section, and Neville insisted that he could sit with Seamus and Dean. They walked in, and Neville did so. Harry sat with his two female friends. When Ron walked in, he gave Harry a look of pure loathing, and went to sit with Seamus and Dean, only to find that Neville had taken said seat. After glaring at him for a bit, Ron was forced to sit with a Hufflepuff.

Flitwick then walked into the classroom and squeaked, "Good morning, good morning, class! And welcome to your first class of the year! Today, we will be practicing the Summoning Charm. Does anyone know what it is?"

Hermione raised her hand immediately, wildly waving it in the air, and almost taking out Harry and the table. Flitwick smiled at her; he could always count on Granger to give a good answer. However, when she had raised her hand, Harry had grinned and put his hand, too, slowly into the air. Flitwick was surprised. Harry had almost never volunteered an answer in any of his class – but then again, even the teachers had noticed the change in the young Potter.

The Summoning Charm is a charm that caused an object at a distance from the caster to fly into their arms. It was one of the oldest spells known to Wizarding society. It's incantation is 'Accio', and its most famous use was by the Accionites and their leader, Gideon Flatworthy. This Charm cannot be used on buildings, nor most living things. Though most things produced in Wizarding shops in the 21st century are charmed as to not be able to be Summoned, as to avoid theft. The wand movement is simply an upwards curve, starting at your right shoulder, and ending in front of your left, all the while your arm fully extended."

Flitwick was shocked. "Excellent description, Mr. Potter! Do you think you could take a shot at it?"

Harry blinked. "Er – I guess." Flicking out his wand and pointing it at the chair (one which Flitwick never uses, as he stands on top of a stack of books to teach), and stated, "Accio Filius' chair." Flicking his wand perfectly, the chair flew up over his professor's desk and at Harry at top speed. Harry stood and caught the chair, which was slightly smaller than the average one.

Flitwick (for lack of better term) squealed. "Excellent job, Mr. Potter! That was the most powerful Summoning Charm I've ever seen a student do! What did you do differently than most?"

Harry blinked. "Er – I read that the more fit you are, the more released your magic is. So that's why I run and exercise and stuff. It helps me put finesse on my spells, but it also expands my capabilities concerning such magic."

Flitwick clapped. "Excellent demonstration, Mr. Potter! I'll discuss your explanation with your Head of House and see what she thinks about it."

Harry smiled and nodded his acceptance of the praise. The rest of class went uneventfully, and Harry was asked to walk around and help out those who needed it.

**OooOooO**

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the class Harry was most excited for. He was determined to learn as much as he could from the ex-Auror.

Moody was tall and thick, with teak, wavy blonde hair. Scars marred his face, and his massive, fake blue eye constantly whizzed about, looking at each of them, and lingering on Harry.

"The only reason I am here is because Dumbledore asked me to. End of story. Now, when it comes to the Dark Arts, I believe in a practical approach. First! Which of you can tell me the three Unforgivable Curses."

"The Cruciatus." Neville blurted, his face reddened. Moody studied him.

"Yes – a Longbottom. Your parents were great people – great Aurors." After a moment of silence, Moody called on Hermione.

"The Imperious, sir." Hermione said. "It allows you complete control over the target."

Moody nodded. "Yes, the Ministry had some trouble with that one a couple years ago." After another silence, Harry raised his hand, and Moody looked on him. "Potter?"

"The Killing Curse." Harry said quietly. Moody nodded, watching Harry longer than normal.

"Now, the Unforgivable Curses are so name because . . .?"

"They are Unforgivable." Malfoy drawled from the back of the class. "They are the darkest form of magic possible – but Professor, I disagree."

Moody had a hint of a smile on his marred face. Inviting him to go on, Malfoy continued to drawl, "I think that there is no Dark or Light. After all, each of these curses can be used in a good way. The Imperius can be used to infiltrate enemy ranks, and the Cruciatus can be used to interrogate someone."

Harry grew angry. Obviously, these were words fed to Malfoy through his father, but they were just untrue. Malfoy Sr. just looked for excuses to execute such curses, and that made Harry even angrier.

The room shivered, and Moody laughed. "Can anyone provide a counter-argument?"

Harry raised his hand, and Moody nodded. "I agree with Malfoy; I don't believe there is Light or Dark magic."

The room gasped quietly, but Harry ignored it. "However, only one of those curses can truly only be used for something good thing. The Imperius can be used to control a drunk or suicidal person."

"What 'bout the others, Potter? A bit too close to home?" Malfoy sneered. Harry ignored him.

"However, the last two cannot be used for good in any way." Harry said firmly.

"Any justification, Potty? The Killing Curse can be used for someone in pain, wishing to be put out of their misery." Malfoy drawled inquired. Harry glared sharply back at him, with malice in his green gaze.

"The Killing and Cruciatus must be fueled by hate. You must really hate the person to be able to cast either of them. For example -"

Harry flicked his wand out, pointed it at Moody, and said calmly, "_Avada Kedavra_."

The class screamed, and desks were overturned, but Moody stood there with a massive smile on his face. Ronald had even lunged out of his desk and started to grab Harry, who pushed him off, and pointed his wand at him. Harry breathed heavily. "However, if I cast it on Weasley, I may get some reaction from the ssspell." The last word was hissed out, and Harry's Parseltongue crept in slightly. It wasn't enough for everyone to be aware, but it was enough for everyone to be reminded that Harry was a Parseltongue, and it sent shivers down their spines. Daphne, who sat in the back of the room, felt a strange sensation. It was a chill down her back, but a warmth that tingled in her chest. She shook it off as the class watched in horror, but Harry didn't do anything.

Moody let out a great barking laugh as Harry flicked his wand back into his holster. The students looked up and saw that their Professor was not dead, and they all began to calm down. Moody continued to laugh deeply. "Ha! – Mr. Potter! Ha! Ha! What a demonstration! Brilliant teaching skills. Ruddy brilliant."

Harry grabbed Ron by the collar of his robes and picked him up, and then pushed him back towards his own desk. Ron had a maniac gleam in his eye.

"You're going to Azkaban, Potter!" Ron snarled happily. "You cast the spell -"

"No I didn't, you idiot. I just said the words. After all, most people don't even call it the Killing Curse – the just refer to it as _Avada Kedavra_ – and they don't get sent to jail, do they?"

Moody wiped tears of mirth out of his eye. "I think I like you, Potter. You got some heat. I like that."

**OooOooO**

For the rest of the class, the class were wary of Harry; even Parvarti and Hermione. They were both shocked, but both agreed that Harry had done nothing wrong. But as they left the class, Hermione said, "Harry, you have to control your temper. You really scared us back there – you sounded almost like a snake near the end."

Harry clenched his hands. "I know, and I'm sorry, 'Mione, but I'm not taking any crap from either Ronald or Mlafoy this year. They insult me, I burn them. They push me, I mortally wound them."

Parvarti giggled while Hermione sighed with a smirk on her face that she was trying to hold back. "Alright, Harry. Be careful next time. We don't want everyone thinking you're the next Dark Lord."

Harry shrugged, and they parted ways. Hermione and Parvarti went to go to the Quidditch Pitch to watch the try-outs after they ate, while Harry went to his dormitory to get on his Quidditch robes. When he had done so, he went to the Great Hall to eat a hurried lunch (it was nearly empty, since everyone had started to make their way to the Quidditch Pitch), and then went to the Pitch. Once there, he found about two dozen kids trying out for the team. Upon seeing Harry, Katie and Angelina went to him. The sun was bright, but the clouds covered it so that there wouldn't be any glare. In the stands were the Heads of Houses, about half the students, and a small group of wizards near the end of the stands. Harry wasn't sure who they were.

"Harry! Finally! You have to help us judge who's going on, since you were the best Seeker last year. Come on, we're testing them first."

So Harry watched as the aspiring young Seekers (around six of them in all, including Cedric Diggory, Cho Chang, Ginny Weasley, Malfoy, and a second year.) tried out for the team. Angelina released around ten snitches into the air for each person, and they had one minute to grab as many as possible. In the end, Ginny was picked to be the reserve, Cho Chang as one of the subs, and Cedric as the starter. Ginny was very good, but her broom was holding her back; if she had a Nimbus, she would fly as well as Cho, if not better (she made 6/10). Cho was very good as the initial flying, but failed to reach her top speed quick enough (she got 7/10). Cedric did very well in all aspects, and so made the team (he made 9/10). Malfoy failed the test, making only 3/10 catches. The second year did just as well as the Slytherin, who moaned and groaned about the selection being biased.

Next were beaters. The Weasleys and the two Slytherin beaters – Harry forgot their names – were tested next. Angelina released the two bludgers onto the pitch, and the two beaters would try to hit them into the hoops. The Weasleys made 16/20 (two each), and the Slytherins made 14/20.

There were only two Keepers trying out; Herbert Fleet, from Hufflepuff, and Grant Page, from Ravenclaw. For this, Angelina herself would try to score 10 times on them, and whoever saved more won. In the end, Grant Page won, for he saved 7/10, while Fleet saved 5/10.

Next were Chasers. Before they were sent out, Angelina stopped him and said, "Harry, do you really want to try it out?" Harry nodded firmly, and he zoomed out onto the pitch with his trusty Firebolt. The test was simple; Angelina would throw the Quaffle at the wannabe player, and he/she would try to score without going within 10 meters near the hoops, to make it fair. They would get 10 tries. Grant Page would be the Keeper for each one of them.

There were almost a dozen students trying out for Chaser, and 8 of them were quickly beat out, as they couldn't receive Angelina's expert, hard passes. The only people left was Harry, Katie, Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw team, and Marcus Flint. Angeline used _'Sonorous_' on her throat and called to everyone watching, "Alright, guys, there are only two spots available on the inter-house team. Do your best, and if you don't make it, be happy that you'll be either a sub or a part of the reserves." So the Chasers were called over to sit by her, so that there would be one at a time, and they could easily manage the scores.

Harry smirked as Katie was called up. Before she went out, Harry stood and gave her a hug. "Good luck, Katie." He said, and she smiled widely and pecked him on the cheek. Sitting back down, Angelina was watching him strangely, and Harry shrugged innocently. As Katie flew out to the center of the pitch, Harry asked Angelina, "Who are those people over there?"

Angelina peered over at them. "Hm? Oh, their – _oh my Merlin_ -" She whispered.

"What." Harry said, nervous, and Angelina leaned in, "Those are scouts for the Quidditch club teams. And the one in the front is the scout for the _English National Team!"_

Harry's eyes widened. "Ah."

But their attention was drawn away when Katie was ready. Angelina flew out to the pitch and threw the Quaffle, hard, at her friend. Katie was able to catch it, fly towards the hoops, and chuck it at the bottom right. However, the Ravenclaw Keeper expected it, and kicked it away. The next few throws went similarly, although Katie was able to make two. Thus they testing went on until she was on her final one; she had made an excellent 7/10, and Angelina threw her the ball. Katie was not ready for it, and when she reached at the last second, it bounced from her palm into her face, and she slid off, limp as a rag doll.

Angelina screamed, and took off after her, but her Cleansweep wasn't fast enough to reach for her, for the last throw was supposed to be thrown from long range. Harry immediately chucked his broom out in front of him and leapt off the stands, landing on the Firebolt. He zoomed towards the ground, under the falling Chaser, and sever feet before hitting the ground, Harry leapt off his broom and broke Katie's fall with his arms, landing with an 'Oof!' on his stomach.

Harry groaned and got to his knees, lifting Katie in his arms to see if she was okay. She had a nasty bruise on her head, but that was it. Harry winced when he got to his feet, and Angelina landed next to him, in shock.

Harry winced. "Here, Anne – get my broom and put it under me. I'm going to fly up to Pomfrey."

Angeline just nodded and did so. Harry then tried to attempt a stance that some professionals did; he wrapped one of his legs around his broom normally, but with his other foot, he put on top of his broom, to steer the best he could. He used Katie's body as counterweights, and slowly but surely floated up towards the teacher's stands.

When he reached them, the group of wizards – or the scouts – took Katie from him and placed her on a conjured mattress. Pomfrey was mumbling, "Damn sport – too dangerous for kids -"

Harry sighed when the weight was lifted from him and he leaned against the fence, breathing heavily. There was a sharp pain in his side, and he clenched it lightly.

One of the wizards went up to him. "Are you alright, son?"

Harry breathed out slowly and shrugged. "I think I might have cracked a rib."

The man nodded and took out his wand, pressing it lightly against Harry's stomach and murmuring a couple of words. "That was some good flying out there, son."

Harry blinked as the pain suddenly vanished. "Er – thanks. Last year, I was a Seeker, but this year I'm trying for Chaser."

The man grinned and nodded. "We could tell. That was a Wronksi Feint if I ever saw one."

Harry smiled and shrugged. The man turned and gestured towards someone. He came over, and Harry found that he was a tall young man, with broad shoulders and cheery smile.

"Forgive me, son, I'm George Harde, and this is Keaton Flitney. He plays as Chaser for the ENQT." Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

"The English National Quidditch Team." Flitney clarified. "It's a pleasure to meet you. What's your name?"

Harry smiled and shook his hand firmly. "Harry Potter."

Flitney blinked. "Really?" while Harde's mouth dropped open. "How old are you, Harry?"

"14, sir." Harry said, and Harde grinned.

"Son, we're going to watch you try out, and if we think you do well, we'll get you a spot on our Under 17 squad."

Harry gaped. "Really? Thanks, sir!"

Harde laughed. "No, if this works, we'll be thanking you, son. If you make it now, when you turn 17, you'll be guaranteed a spot on the National team."

Harry smiled and laughed heartily. "Thanks so much!"

Harde grinned, too. "You don't have it yet, son. You still have to make it."

Harry was still smiling. "I'll try not to screw up. Anyway, if you're hear for the National team, then who are the other guys representing?"

"There're the Ballycastle Bats, the Chudley Cannons, Puddlmere United, the Vratsa Vultures, and the Holyhead Harpies here right now, but there'll be more when the actual inter-school matches start going."

Harry whistled. "Which one is Viktor Krum at? I'd love to play with him someday. His flying technique is flawless."

Flitney grinned at him. "You have a good eye for flying, kid. Right now, Krum is at the Vratsa Vultures. They're at the top of the league right now, but I heard that Krum is going out on a transfer soon, to either the Cannons or Puddlmere."

Harry whistled. "How many teams are there in all, in the league?"

Harde tilted his head. "Exactly forty. The teams here are currently in the top five in the league, but they've come here to start scouting some new talents."

They were about to continue talking when Angelina called to him, "Oi! Harry! You're up next!"

Harry looked apologetically at the scout, but quickly hopped on his broom and floated away.

When he reached Angelina, he asked, "How many did Flint get?"

"He got 7/10." She answered, and Harry whistled. "I'm ready. And Angelina -" Harry stopped her when she started to float away. "Don't hold back."

She smirked. "I wasn't planning to, Potter."

Harry grinned in response and went out to the middle of the field. The Gryffindors in the stands were cheering his name, and before she began, Angelina was confronted by Lee Jordan. He seemed to be begging something, and it looked like Angelina relented. Jordan ran up to the teacher's stands, grabbed his microphone, and turned it on.

"Ladies and gentledorks, the final tryout of the day will be Gryffindor's Harry Potter!" Cheers from the crowd. "The only reason I'm doing this for Harry is because, sadly, we don't believe that Katie will continue; please give a respectful round of applause for one of Gryffindor's best Chasers." The audience clapped respectfully.

Harry focused in on Angelina as she flew out, a sack of Quaffles tied to the end of her broom. Taking one out, Harry focused on only the Quaffle, and the hoop he intended it to pass through.

"Harry gets ready to receive the pass – Angelina draws her arm back, and hurtles at Harry – Harry catches, spins, and the ball flies through the far left hoop! In from bouncing off the bottom half of the circle! What a shot!"

Harry grins as it bounces upwards through the metal hoop, and it gives a satisfying hum. Jordan's commentary continues as Angelina flies from her spot upwards, and drops it almost from on top of him. Harry puts his broom under the falling ball, the ball pops up several feet, and Harry spins and smashed the Quaffle with the back of his broom. The ball hurtles past the Keeper's hands and into the middle post.

"That's two for Potter; he is on fire! Oi! Scouts! Did you see that! Yeah! Potter's a monster!" Jordan yelled to the scouts, who chuckled and resumed watching Harry.

Angelina throws another ball, and Harry catches this one in his palm, flies forward at full speed, and releases it, twisting his hand at the last second.

"Ah – this looks like the first miss for – NO! It curls its way around the Keeper and passes cleanly through the bottom right hoop! This is the best Chasing we've ever seen -"

Harry smirks to himself as Angelina proceeds with the next three, Harry making every one. On his sixth try, Angelina circles around one of the stands, and in, turning at the last minute, but sending a reverse pass towards Harry.

"That is some tricky play from Angelina , but no! Harry expects it and throws it, full power! The Keeper got a touch in, but it only deflected in – Grant Page is putting up an excellent fight."

And for the next three, Harry continues to beat the Keeper until Angelina reaches for the last Quaffle.

"Harry Potter has already secured himself a place on the team, beating Marcus Flint's score already – but if he makes this shot, he is surely one of the best ever at this school."

Angelina gets out the last Quaffle and flies underneath Harry. Jordan's voice gets higher with excitement. "And now it looks like Angelina is going to copy an in-game play called the Reverse Porskoff Plow, in which a Chaser flies down and throws upwards to the Chaser above."

Harry looks down at Angelina, and she throws it upwards towards him. When she does, Harry catches it between his feet, flips over, flicking the ball above him, rights himself, catches it, and tosses the ball into the air.

"What's Harry going to do – amazing footwork from Harry, flicks it up, throws into the air, and - I DON't BELIEVE IT! HE'S GOING FOR THE DIONYSUS DIVE!"

And so he was; as the ball comes back down to him, Harry stands on his broom, and leaps forward into open air, punching the Quaffle as hard as he can towards the hoops. The Keeper, not expecting it at all, goes to block it, but is too late – it's already past his hands -

"HARRY IS CAUGHT BY ANGELINA – PAGE REACHES FOR IT – NO! It bounces off the circle, hitting him in the back – AND IT GOES IN! HARRY POTTER GETS 10/10 IN THE INTER-HOUSE TRYOUTS!"

Harry sighs with relief when the Quaffle bounces off Page's back and into the hoop. Looking around, he found that he was just behind Angelina, on her broom. He smiles and murmurs in her ear, "I guess that you can say that I've – fallen for you."

Angelina chuckles, and steers him down towards the grass, where the Gryffindors began hugging him and cheering for him. Floating above the crowd, Anglina turns and kisses him on the lips. Harry is shocked, but kisses back. It isn't a snog, just a closed mouth kiss that lasted about 10 seconds, but Harry decided that it was the best first kiss a guy could have. Whilst doing so, she pushed him backwards, off the broom, and into the hands of the crowd.

Little did he know, a certain Slytherin girl was glaring murderously at them, planning what she would do to her betrothed.

**Next: The talk with the teams, and the date with Daphne**

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Updated 2/25/14, fixed some minor errors and a mixup with the Patil twins.

A/N: GUYS, when posting Guest reviews, could you please put a random name in there, so that I don't have to copy and paste your review so that you know I'm talking to you?

Speaking of which, I've found that a Guest has gone around several HP stories (that I have never read) and had reviewed them under my name. And let me tell you, it can't be a coincidence, as I have quite a unique name. If you search 'uwontknoxd' in Google, you can see that a Guest has done so. If you're this person, and you're reading this, please stop! If you're not reading this, everyone else, what can I do about it? 'Tis an imposter! :)

_sanbeegoldiewhitey_: His parents left the Manor to Sirius and Remus because they fully expected they would be the two guardians to raise Harry as their own. And once they'd passed, Harry would inherit the Manor. Regarding how Dumbledore knew Peter was Secret-Keeper and did nothing? That will be revealed later. It plays a somewhat major roll in the story. For your second review: Oh, he hasn't put the pieces together yet. The Wills were a lot to take in, but Harry'll put the jigsaw together and properly interrogate Dumbledore next time (Which won't happen for a while, I don't want it to seem like I was bashing).

_SlythrInHermione_: I, too, dislike Ron's character a lot. Regarding your rape concerns, I can't tell you if what you guessed was right or wrong, but let's just say that you are _very_ good at predicting the plot (*wink* *wink*). I'm also excited to write the Slytherin's reactions when Harry and Daphne's relationship escalates (the Yule Ball will be very exciting!). As for the PoV debate, I think that I'll be keeping it with a select few (i.e. Harry, Daphne, maybe a tiny bit of Ron, Malfoy at least once, and yes, you shall get insight on the professors' meetings. Thanks for leaving such a nice review! Come again!

_hornet07_: What would you do if you were in his place? You entered into a contract that says you must marry someone you barely know (who should be an automatic enemy, given the House rivalries), and the man who basically controls your life doesn't deem you ready enough to learn of it. He did shout, but he didn't necessarily whine. I'd do the same thing if I were in his position. He's earned the rite to throw a few massive fits. Sirius' death has little to do with Harry's perception of Ron, rather the choices Harry himself has made regarding who he forges friendships with. Since Harry and Ron had been on good terms for most of the time on all previous books, Harry would ignore such behavior. For example, let's go back to school. Your best friend eat like a pig. You'd laugh, right? After all, best friends are quirky. Now, instead of your best friend, replace him with someone you have fresh angry feelings at. Everything they do would annoy you, and you'd be oblivious to your friend's behavior, because he is just that; your friend.

_CazPeak: _I may be adding word count to the initial story, but I NEVER count in the author's notes in the chapter word count. Every chapter has at least 3000 words, not counting the responses (because I write the chapter before the author's note, or save them in different files). I don't see how it can annoy readers when you can just scroll down a little farther, taking literally less than a second. I haven't seen anyone else complain, so . . .

_Guest_: **"**_**Characters are far too OC to the point of outright not believable."**_I believe the term is 'OOC' (out of character), and the only one acting out of context here is Harry, and his godfather had just died, after all. Ron is acting his usual jealous/sloppy self, Hermione concerned/inquisitive, and Ginny and Neville nervous. If you meant Daphne and Tracey, they've barely been mentioned at all in any of the books, and so I can form them to my needs. After, all, it's an AU, right? Daphne and Tracey are blank sheets, waiting to be filled in. If you're complaining about the only OC I've included, Natalie, then, well, shoot me for mourning my friend.

_Guest_: **"**_**Great story so far. **_ _**I have two suggestions for you. Firstly I would include more of Daphne view point in the story. Since there is no prior knowledge of her character in canon and only your brief description of her ice queen person. Secondly I would also add more scenes/view points of the other major characters (hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville Tracey, etc) , to get a better understating of how they feel about the current situation that either Harry or themselves are in." **_Although I plan on doing more PoV (i.e. Harry, Daphne, maybe a tiny bit of Ron, Malfoy at some points)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Greengrass Contract**

**by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: There isn't much to say, other than thanks so much for the 332 favs, 461 follows, and 95 reviews! You guys are amazing! Now, enjoy!

Updated 2/26/14, details at end of chapter.

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**Chapter 6: Ready for Practice**

* * *

Harry let himself be dropped down to the ground, landing on his feet among his fellow Gryffindors. The fiasco in DADA all but forgotten, he was congratulated on making the team and winning the bird. Harry blushed when they mentioned the latter.

Suddenly, the cheering mass of kids was split open by a grinning George Harde. Going up next to Harry and slinging an arm around his shoulders. "My boy, that was the best Chasing I've seen in a long time, and you're not even 15! So let me offer you a proposition, son: I'll get you onto the Under 17 squad. The adult World Cup was this summer, but the Under 17 is actually going on right now, but England hasn't had a qualifying match. So, what do you say?"

Harry was speechless, and the Gryffindors all cheered him on, telling him to take the offer. Harry was still speechless, and Harde laughed and slapped his shoulder. "If it's wages you're worried about, the Under 17 squad gets around 500 galleons per month."

Harry's mouth dropped even wider. The students around him laughed, and then Angelina landed her broom next to him and stood next to Harry, grabbing his hand. Harde smiled at her. "You were very good too, Angelina, was it? I was going to talk to you afterwords; from what I've seen, you could easily make it onto the reserve squad for the adult's World Cup; since you missed it, you can wait until next year; if you improve enough, you can make it onto the subs, too. Are you Harry's girlfriend?"

Harry lost all of his cool and stammered, "Erm – well -"

Angelina rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand. "Yes."

Harde chuckled. "And a nice bird you have, Mr. Potter. So, do you agree? 500 galleons a month? We have practices once a week, and the first match is actually this weekend. If you want to participate as a sub in it, you can come to the practice tomorrow and see what it's like. But, as of now, I am hiring you to be on the squad. We'll get all of the contract jazz done in the castle later today, if you like. What do you say?"

Harry found his voice. "That is the best thing I've ever heard. I accept – thank you so much."

Harde grinned. "I know. Of course you did. Once you've finished celebrating with your friends, I'll meet you in the castle's Dining Hall for you to sign the contract. Meanwhile, I'll be talking to your head of house. Capisce?"

Harry grinned and nodded, and Harde slapped his shoulder. "See you soon, kid."

As the scout left, Harry turned to Angelina and thanked her. "Thanks for covering for me back there."

Angelina smirked. "That wasn't the only reason I kissed you, Potter." With that, she pulled him in for another kiss, to the sighs of the crowd, and the jealous glances of many girls and boys alike.

"Come on. I think that there's a very nice broom closet – I mean, common room that we can celebrate in." The crowd chuckled as Harry and Angeline walked, hand in hand towards the castle.

As they walked towards the castle, Harry couldn't help but feel elated, but saddened that he was going to miss this. Sure, this was great fun, but there wouldn't be any lasting relationship to come, considering Harry's position with Daphne. But Harry decided that Angelina didn't expect this to last either; most likely, she'll just want this to be a little fun that would last a half a year.

Saying the password for him, Angelina led him inside the common room and into the corner to the left of the door portrait. This was the corner where couples would often go to have a good snog; there were red curtains around a booth with a table in front of it. It was supposed to be used for 'private studying', but the students found that there were many other more . . . recreational uses to be had from it.

Pulling him in, her lips locked with his as they sat down on the seat next to each other, and someone closed the curtains behind them. After a good minute of this, Harry broke off. "Er – Angelina, not to be rude, but why are you doing this?" He inquired quietly.

Angelina smiled at him. "Several reasons. One: you're hot now. Two: You're going to be a Quidditch star. Three: you're a really nice guy. Four: You saved my friend from an untimely demise. Is that enough for you?"

Harry grinned. "I guess, but I don't expect this to last. After all, Fred has a crush on you, and I have some shit going on that really sucks."

Angelina smiled again, and laughed a bit. "I like Fred too, but I'm going to wait until I leave Hogwarts to get to know him better. And let me guess; the shit that's going on is a marriage contract."

Harry blinked. "How did you know?"

Angelina laughed. "I didn't, but now I do. I assumed that because you're the only male child in a powerful male line. I won't ask who it is, since you'll probably only come out when you want to. But let's just try to make this work for the time being, okay, Harry? At least halfway into the year. Plus -" She went in for another kiss. "I can teach you some things. If you're contracted to someone, I expect that it's a pureblood, and she'll have high expectations of you. So I'll coach you in kissing and some other stuff."

Seeing her waggle her eyebrows, Harry shifted uncomfortably, causing her to laugh. "It's okay, Angelina – I know all about parking the hot rod in the garage."

Angelina let out a louder laugh. "Is that what you call it? That's cute, but don't worry; I won't come down on you like that. I'm going to wait until I'm older."

Harry grinned and agreed. "I don't want any annoying little shits running around calling me daddy."

Angelina laughed again and pulled him in for another kiss. After several minutes of this, Harry pulled apart and said, "Any tips, Professor Smooch?"

Angelina grinned and pecked him again. "Open your mouth more. I can't force your mouth open with my tongue. Also, tilt your head more, or I'll get a crick in my neck. Also, even though some girls like it, don't run your fingers in my hair. I might do that to you, but that's because your hair always looks like pile of shit. You can keep your hands on my hips instead. Other than that, you're on the road to being very good at this."

Harry grinned and pecked her again. Angelina smiled and scooted her butt towards Harry. "Come one, Potter. Let's make you a Quidditch star."

**OooOooO**

It was supper, anyway, and when Angelina and Harry reached the Great Hall, almost half the students were there already. When Harry had asked, Angelina had decided that they should make their relationship known, so that it wouldn't be as awkward when they were caught in broom closets. Which, Angelina had said, would happen often, if she had any say in it.

Thus, they held hands as they walked into the Great Hall. The tables were covered in food, and Harry noticed that there were several extra chairs at the staff table. In one, to the left of McGonagall, was George Harde, and to the left of her were two different wizards wearing different color robes; one of them blue and the other bright orange. Harry smiled and waved up at Harde, who grinned and waved back, before continuing his conversation with McGonagall. In fact, they were having a four-way discussion, including the new wizards.

Harry sat at the table next to Hermione, Angelina at his side. Across the table was Neville and Ginny as usual, and a little was down was Ron, who thankfully hadn't said much during the day. Across from Angelina, one of her friends, Patricia Stimpson, sat down and greeted Angelina. Next to Angelina came George, and across her came Fred.

"Well, Harry. Looks like you got a very nice bird, indeed." Neville mused across the table. He had become very confident in the past day, and Harry wondered why. His thoughts were answered when Ginny smacked his shoulder, but then rested her hand on Neville's.

"Look who's talking, Nev." Harry smirked, Ginny and Neville reddening.

"Congrats, you two." Angelina chuckled. "Treat him nice, Ginny, or he'll stick one of his plants up your arse."

Harry chuckled and added, "Except it won't be a plant." The girls and boys in Angelina's year laughed at this, while the new couple looked utterly lost. Hermione obviously understood, but covered her mouth at the last minute, but couldn't overcome the smirk that reached her eyes.

Once they had finished eating, Hermione excused herself to go study, and Neville and Ginny followed her, not wanting to interrupt anything between Angelina and Harry. When they had left, the food magically disappeared and Fred and George moved to the other side of the table, across from Angelina and Harry, to discuss what had happened.

"Congrats, mate!" Fred said.

"We can't believe -" George continued.

"- that our ickle Harry -" Fred went on.

"Is going to be an international Quidditch star!" George finished.

Harry shifted in his seat but managed a grin, too. "Yeah, well – it's not that big of a deal."

There was a guffaw behind him, and a big hand landed on his shoulder. "M'boy, this is a big deal!" Saying this, Mr. Harde sat next to him, a roll of parchment in his hand. "I've got the contract ready, Potter. I've discussed it with your head of house, and she says that you can go to our games and practices and the like. Almost as big of a Quidditch fanatic as me."

Rolling out the parchment, it read,

**Quidditch Contract | Under 17 | English National Team**

**I, _ _ _, agree to play and practice with the U17 ENQT for a wage of _****_**** galleons a month. This wage can be discussed and changed as seen fit by the signee. I agree to be put in the care of the Quidditch Healers if injuries occur, and accept responsibilities for such injuries (don't sue us). Please fill out the questionnaire below.**

**Position: _**

**Preferred formation(s): _**

**(discuss with scout): Preferred broom (circle option): Cleansweep CO | Nimbus CO | Firebolt CO | other/highest bidder |**

**Printed name on uniform (initials accepted): _**

**(discuss with scout): Clothing brand: _**

**(discuss with scout): Desired roll in club (circle option): Crucial 1rst Team Player | Substitute/Sporadic/Future Team Player | Reserve |**

**We hope you enjoy your time with the U17 ENQT. Sign: _ _**

Harry whistled, and began filling out the form as Mr. Harde began talking to the Weasleys and Angelina. Accepting Mr. Harde's magical pen, he filled out his full name, and 500 in the wage line. For position, he put Chaser, and then thought about the preferred formation. He only ever knew the Hogwarts formation, which was the standard in most teams. It was a 1-1-2-3, a Seeker, A Keeper, two Beaters, and three Chasers, but there were several different formations, in which chasers could fall back and not push forward as much, and so on and so forth. Filling in 1-1-2-3, he skipped over the preferred broom for the moment, and studied the printed name on uniform line.

After several moments of contemplation, he put in 'H. J. Potter', since he didn't like his name just as 'Harry Potter'. He decided that with a new mentality should come a new title, and so remembered to think about legally changing his name to Harry-James. He quite liked the sound of that, actually.

Skipping over the last two lines, Harry looked up at Mr. Harde. "Finished. Now what about the preferred broom and things?"

"Ah. This is where it gets tricky Harry. Sponsorship is a major roll in Quidditch; companies will pay you to wear their stuff, or use their brooms. For the preferred broom, do you prefer any companies?"

Harry shook his head. "Not necessarily. I guess I'll ride what's best."

Mr. Harde nodded, studying Harry closely. "I'm guessing you don't prefer any clothing, either, since you've only ever worn your Hogwarts robes. Let me tell you, Harry: Within the next to months, or two matches, if you make a name for yourself, the companies will be falling over each other to give you their stuff, and to pay you for it. I know for a fact that Firebolt CO pays you around 10,000 galleons every game you use their broom, and they come out with new models often. Once you get famous enough, we'll worry about that. For now, just circle other/highest bidder, and put N/A for clothing brands. For the last one, we'll wait on it. I know for a fact that you're just as good as one 16 year old Chasers; the problem is, if you aren't as good as him, we'd circle the second option: you'd be a sub, sporadic (someone who goes in every few games), or a someone who will be on the first team in the future. If you're better, which you might just be, we'd circle the crucial first team player. So there, put the second, just in case. If you beat him, you can re-fill it out and circle the first one. Capisce?"

Harry nodded, and signed with a flourish. Excitement coursed through him when the other two wizards came and sat next to Fred and George. They both introduced themselves as Joseph Goode (the one in blue) and Harley Moren (the one in orange).

"This must be young Harry! Pleasure to meet you; Joseph Goode, scout for Puddlmere United, at your service." The man reached out his hand, and Harry took it. The other said, "An honor to meet such an esteemed person; I'm Harley Moren, scout for the Chudley Cannons."

Harry blinked as he shook the hand of Mr. Moren. "Pleasure to meet you both. Why are you here?"

The two grinned. "I think you know why, Harry." Mr. Goode said. "We're both here because we were scouting for our respective teams, and we're interested."

Mr. Moren nodded. "And you must be his lovely girlfriend, Angelina. How do you do."

Angelina blushed and took his hand. Mr. Moren addressed only Angelina now: "Ms. Johnson, your leadership skills and technique in the air are excellent, but could use a bit of improvement. Which is why I'm here to offer you a contract to play as a substitute at the Cannons."

Angelina blinked, and Harry grinned and squeezed her hand. "I – me? I'm much too young, don't you think?"

Mr. Moren laughed. "The age limit is no younger than 15, young lady. And I think that you can improve greatly if you go with the Cannons."

Angelina half-laughed, half cried. "But – why not Harry? He's a bit better than me -"

Mr. Moren shook his head. "He may be, but that's Mr. Goode's job. Unfortunately, Mr. Potter is under age, and if he weren't, I'm sorry to say that we wouldn't have sufficient wages to cover such a valuable player. After all, we are fifth in the league, but we think that this is just a short run in good form; normally, we're in ninth, and thus aren't the best. At the moment, The Vultures are the best, but they won't be for long. Rumor has it Viktor Krum is transferring somewhere else. Although some think it's the Cannons, we do not have funds high enough to snatch Krum. He earns almost 10,000 galleons a month, and is in high demand from all the teams."

Harry blushed as Mr. Moren took out a rolled up piece of parchment from his robes, and when he opened it found that it was almost identical to Harry's previous one. Angelina excitedly filled it out. Mr. Goode began talking to Harry. "I regret to say, Harry, that you are too young to earn a spot on a Puddlemere United; but if you weren't you'd immediately make it as a sporadic player."

Harry thought about it. "Actually, sir, I might be of age. My godfather, Sirius Black, died recently, and if I'm correct, he named me his heir, and thus I am of age and Head of House Black."

Mr. Goode and Moren's jaws dropped. Moren sighed while Goode rummaged excitedly for his things. "Well, although the Cannons would very much like to have Harry on their team, I believe that Puddlemere would find that the Cannons were too late." Goode said, still rummaging through his things. Harry stopped him quickly.

"I'd wait, sir. I can go to Gringotts over the Winter Holidays and get myself checked, if you like, since the league season's over, and won't start until this summer in June."

Goode nodded understandingly and took his hand out of his bag.

After Angelina had finished filling out her contract, Moren said, "Ah – young lady – before you sign, I must warn you. The training is hard, and it will take up much of your school time. Will you risk it?"

Angelina nodded. "Absolutely. I've always dreamed of this." Harry smiled and squeezed her hand. "And what of my wages?"

Mr. Moren sighed. "Unfortunately, Angelina, it is not as much as your friend's; it is around 250 galleons a week, give or take 10 galleons depending on how well you play."

Angelina laughed. "Unfortunately? That a bloody fortune, thank you very much!" The people at the table laughed.

After several seconds, Harry asked, "What about the Beaters at the tryouts? Stellar, weren't they?"

Fred and George gave Harry an amazed, yet thankful look. When the three scouts turned to look at them, they grinned. "Sorry, my boy scouts -" Fred began

"- unfortunately, we have set a future of pranks ahead of us -"

"- and we would find it difficult to play for the international or club teams -"

"- whilst managing our business. Although -"

"- we wouldn't say no -"

"- to a reserve spot on the Cannons -"

"- if you were so interested." Fred finished. The scouts looked at each other, and then the twins.

"How do you do that?" Mr. Moren asked. George grinned.

"Magic, my boy scout. Now, if you're thinking about now hiring us because you can't waste any more of your budget -"

"- you needn't worry about that, for -"

"- we'd settle for a meager -"

"- 100 galleons a week, each." Fred finished. Mr. Moren studied both of them.

"You drive a hard bargain, boys. You two did decently out there, and one of our beaters is leaving the club, and you ask for little wage – you know what? The Cannons will wait until the actual inter-school matches to decide. Is that okay with you boys?"

Fred and George nodded together, and then the three scouts stood to go. The four Quidditch players stood with them, and shook each of their hands. "See you tomorrow, Potter." Harde smirked, before the three left the Great Hall, talking amongst themselves.

Immediately, Fred and George hopped over the table and smothered Harry in a brotherly, three-man hug.

"Er – guys – gerroff -" Harry protested as Angelina howled with laughter.

"Harry -"

" - Bloody -"

"- Potter -"

"Just about made us professional Beaters for the Cannons."

"Thanks so much, ickle Harry."

"You are now a part of the family, officially."

After another round of thank-you's, the twins left, and Angelina found themselves to be in a deserted Great Hall, the students having left already. There were only several teachers left, but they were deep in discussion. That is, except one other student; Patricia Stimpson looked at both of them like a frightened deer before sprinting away at full speed, practically screaming, "I've got to tell EVERYONE!"

Harry and Angelina smiled at her antics, and then turned towards each other, and Angelina took him in for a big hug. "Thank you so much, Harry." Angelina almost cried. "You've basically secured me a spot at the Cannons. Thanks so much -"

"No, thank you." Harry murmured, rocking her side to side lightly. She mumbled, "For what?"

"For an amazing kiss you now owe me." Harry murmured in her air. With that, Angelina lifted her head and their lips connected in a long, passionate kiss. After what seemed like hours, there was an **ahem** from behind Harry, and he pulled away from Angelina faster than you could blink and had cried, "Ermergerd!"

Standing in front of an embarrassed Angelina was a stern Professor McGonagall. Up at the staff table, Professor Sprout was shaking with silent laughter while Professor Flitwick was rolling on the ground laughing.

"Mr. Potter, I just wanted to congratulate both you and Ms. Johnson on going pro in Quidditch." McGonagall smiled widely suddenly, and Harry smiled with her. "We're hardly professional yet, but if I get an exclusive interview, I'll be mentioning you. After all, you're the one that got me into the sport in the first place."

McGonagall's eyes shined, and she left without another word. Harry stretched and looked down at his watch. "Shit! It's a quarter to six already! I've got to see the girl I won't tell you about. By the way, can he hang out unseen in the library for around an hour? For a cover-up."

Angelina smiled and hugged him. "But then you owe me later. Go get 'er, tiger."

**OooOooO**

Within ten minutes, Harry had changed, brushed his teeth, tried (unsuccessfully) to comb his hair, and had run to the designated meeting place in front of the ugly statue of Gregory of Swarmy. Harry had also grabbed the Marauder's' Map and his invisibility cloak; how else were they to speak from the castle unnoticed?

Harry, upon arriving, found that Daphne had also done her hair, and was wearing slim Muggle jeans and a nice top. Harry also found that Daphne had dyed long, brown streaks into her wavy hair, which he liked. Upon seeing Harry, she stopped fiddling with her hair and crossed her arms.

"Well, Potter? You were almost late. Care to explain where we're going?"

Harry sighed, not in the mood to get mad. "Look, I'm no happier about this than you are, but the only way we won't be miserable is if we start somewhere. Let's drop the last names and start talking to each other normally."

Daphne's icy mask dropped suddenly, revealing a sad, frustrated girl on the pretty face. "I know, Harry. It's just that you being with that Chaser riled me up a bit."

Harry nodded apologetically. "I get it, Daphne. But we'll talk more when we're ready; that is, once we're in Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?" Daphne said in disbelief, raising an eyebrow as Harry took out his tightly folded cloak. Her eyes widened. "Is that -?"

"Yep. An invisibility cloak." Harry confirmed. Daphne narrowed her eyes.

"If that's real than are all the other stories real?" She asked, and Harry shrugged.

"Depends on the stories." Harry said. Nodding towards the statue, he continued, "That's a tunnel that leads straight to the Hog's Head. We cab get a bite and discuss some things."

Daphne watched Harry spread the cloak out so that it would be large enough to encompass them both. "Come on, Daphne, I don't bite."

"No, but you snog." Daphne grumbled as she took part of the cloak and covered herself, her hip pressing against Harry's upper thigh. Then, Harry tapped the statue with his wand and said, "Move your fat arse, Greg."

THe statue slid over, revealing a narrow tunnel with torches and stone walls and floors. When Daphne asked why the tunnel was so nice and why they needed to wear the cloak, Harry led her in and explained, "The house-elves use this tunnel when they don't feel like Apparating. When we're halfway through, we can take it off."

Indeed, they almost stumbled upon an elf, but the cloak, but the cloak hid them from his/her sight. Around five minutes later, Harry said that they could take the cloak off, and they did. After another five minutes, Harry stopped and looked up. There was an old trap door, and voices and stamping could be heard from above. Harry knocked twice, and after several seconds it opened up and out and hands reached down. Harry gestured to the hands, do Daphne took them and let herself be pulled up. Harry went next, and he and his betrothed found themselves in the corner of a busy pub filled with older wizards.

Looking at the man who had helped them, Harry thanked him, and exclaimed, "You look like Dumbledore!"

And indeed he did; though this man's beard was grey rather than white, and he seemed stockier and stronger. "Aye! I am one! Aberforth Dumbledore, at your service." They shook hands, with Daphne, too.

"Is there any room? Do you work here?" Harry asked.

"Aye, and aye, kid, there's some room for you and your lady friend."

"Excellent." Harry said without missing a beat. Several minutes later, they were seated a couple's table, ordering drinks; Daphne, Butterbeer, and Harry, Firewhiskey, which he had grown to stand and enjoy.

"So, Harry. Let's start at First Year. Fill me in on your adventures."

So for the next half an hour, Harry went through his life at school. When he'd reached Third Year, Daphne exclaimed, "Sirius Black is innocent? AND your godfather? Are you serious?" To which Harry had nodded and joked weakly, "No, he was."

Daphne laughed a light, tinkling laugh. "Where is he now? In hiding?"

Harry's gaze darkened, and he looked out at the darkening sky. "We helped him escape, but the dementors I had fought off came back and killed him."

Daphne's eyes widened, and she placed her hand on Harry's while he took another swig of his drink. "I'm sorry, Harry.", and after a minute, Harry shrugged it off.

"Yeah, well, shit happens. You just have to – erm – flush it down the toilet, I guess." He finished awkwardly, and Daphne laughed weakly. "What a master of analogies." She said, and Harry cracked a smile.

When he had finally finished his story up to the present, it was a quarter to seven, and they both decided that they were tired. Before leaving, Harry bought several more flasks of Firewhiskey to share with friends. So they said goodbye to 'Abe', and left back down the tunnel, which took them ten minutes to finally get back to the school.

Before they parted ways, Daphne stopped him and said, "Harry, thanks. I learned a lot and really enjoyed myself tonight."

Harry shrugged and looked away, saying, "I enjoyed myself, too."

Whilst he was looking away, he felt warm lips press against his cheek. When the lips receded, Harry turned back and watched her strangely.

"What? You earned it, Potter. You really know how to make a woman want to laugh and cry at the same time."

When she turned to go, Harry stopped her. "Wait – Daphne. I just wanted to say sorry about me and Angelina."

"It's . . . fine, Harry -" Daphne started sadly, but Harry shook her shoulder.

"No. It's not fine. I'm being selfish whenever I hang out with her. It's just that – last year, I heard you went out with someone. Me? I've barely touched a girl in my life since this year. It's just – I feel that it's unfair that I haven't lived my life yet. But I have a proposition."

Daphne raised her eyebrow, but she had a small smile on her face from her betrothed's apology. "Oh? This Slytherin is listening?"

"I'll keep going out with Angelina until school ends, or however long it lasts – and in return, we can go together to the Ball that's bound to happen after Christmas. Deal?"

Daphne beamed. "Deal, Harry." They shook hands, and they both turned to go. By the time they were on opposite sides of the hallway, Harry called back to her, "Oi! Daphne!"

She turned, and Harry asked, "Same time next week?"

Daphne's laugh echoed around the hall. "You bet your arse, Potter. But next time, I'll pick where we're going. No more Firewhiskey for you."

**OooOooO**

Harry then happily made his way to the library to meet up with Angela, and thank her for covering for him. Once he had found her among the bookshelves, he tapped her shoulder. But before he could say anything, the female Chaser pulled him into the row of books and snogged him, hard, for a full five minutes. Remembering her advice, Harry allowed her to run her hands through his hair, whilst he lowered his hands so that they were at the small of her back. Suddenly, his hands were full of his girlfriend's arse as she stood on her toes to kiss his nose. Lowering herself gently, she basically told Harry that her arse was officially free territory.

Unfortunately, the deal worked both ways, for as they finished, Angelina grabbed his southern cheeks. They then left the shelves and sat at a fluffy chair in the corner of the library, Angelina on his lap as she idly played with his messy hair. Raising his watch to his nose, Harry's eyes widened. "Merlin's saggy ball sack, Ann – we were snogging for almost twenty minutes!"

And so they had, for there was still forty-five minutes before eight, or curfew. Angelina smiled. "Brilliant. Now, what should we do for more than half an hour? By the way, you tasted good; what have you been drinking?" In answer, Harry pulled out a small flask of some extra of what he had drunk during his date. Angelina chuckled. "Already drinking some good ole Firewhiskey? How much have you drunk, and how much do you have left?"

In answer, Harry pulled out one more empty flask, and then four full ones. Angelina cackled. "I feel sorry for you, baby. You'll be regretting it tomorrow morning."

Harry shrugged, but suddenly snapped his fingers. "I've an idea!" Letting the empty flask drop to the floor but stuffing the full ones back into this pocket, he stood.

With that, he scooped his girlfriend out of his lap like a baby and jogged out of the library, his destination the Quidditch Pitch. On the way, through the locker rooms, Harry grabbed his Firebolt. The setting sun went long shadows across the Pitch, and the cool air woke up the couple and heightened their senses. However, there were already students above the grass. The group consisted of the entire reserve team from the inter-school tryouts, and most of the substitute students. Upon seeing the two best Chasers, Ginny Weasley flew down from the squad, and explained to Angelina that she and the reserves wanted to practice a little extra, and Angelina understood, saying that she'd watch the mock–matches.

Harry then got onto his Firebolt and sat Angelina in front of himself, facing away from him, and flew up into the now orange and purple sky. He and his girlfriend shared a long, passionate kiss before settling to watch the sun set. When the sun finally went below the horizon, and the air began to get icy, their Head of House came out and ordered them all to their common rooms for the night. Thus, Harry and Angelina did so.

However, they didn't go to sleep. Instead, in the joy of being picked to go pro in Quidditch, they sat in the love seat in front of the fire as the rest of the Gryffindors threw a party around them. Together, they finished off the last four flasks of Firewhiskey until they passed out in one another's arms.

**OooOooO**

Harry woke up with a massive, pounding migraine, with his throat feeling dry and sticky at the same time. However, the means in which he woke up were even worse; he had woken to an 'Aguamenti" to the face. He and his girlfriend both threw themselves forward onto the floor, with three girls behind the,, laughing their hearts out.

Harry stumbled to his feet to see the Patil twins and Katie Bell (in jogging clothes) watching them brightly. "Wake up, love-birds! Let's go do some running!" Katie said excitedly. Harry groaned, and helped his girlfriend up, saying, "Listen, Katie, I'm glad you're okay, but this is cruel."

Katie smiled wider as Angelina was helped to her feet. "By the way, thanks for saving me, Harry. I owe you." and she kissed him on the cheek. Harry barely reacted, as he was in the middle of his massive hangover. Angela mumbled, "'S okay, Harry, I've got some Potions for this in my dorm. I'll get 'em."

Harry nodded, but when he did, he noticed that the cold water had risen a reaction from his girlfriend; her nipples could be seen as nubs through he shirt. Harry flushed and said quickly, "Thanks, Ann – you're the breasts. I mean - best! Be right back!"

Harry sprinted away to his dorm while the girls laughed. Looking down, Angelina snickered. "Poor Harry. As punishment for looking at mah boobs, he will not get any Potion until we deem him fit." The girls all agreed with choruses of laughter.

Half an hour after a smack upside the head and a playful scolding about not looking at Angelina's breasts, they had finished their run, but had not yet given Harry the Potion, and so he was moaning in pain by the time they were at the Great Hall. When they sat down at their same spots as yesterday, Hermione patted Harry on the shoulder sadly. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"Head hurts." Harry grumbled, putting his elbows on the table and rubbing his palms into his eyes. Angelina snickered again. "Harry and I drank an arseloadof Firewhiskey last night. We haven't given him so much as a Pepper-Up Potion yet."

Hermione giggled. "Serves you right, Harry, for drinking that vile stuff."

Harry just moaned louder, "It tastes so good but hurts so bad. My throat burns, too." Harry rubbed his eyes harder, watching the interesting patterns flit under his eyelids.

"Don't rub your eyes, Harry. It's bad for you." Katie admonished evilly. Harry grumbled in return, "So is not taking a bloody hangover potion when I've drunk a little more than a couple bloody flasks of Firewhiskey. Must I remind you I have practice today, and may need that by lunch?"

Katie looked confused. "What practice?"

Angelina quickly filled her in on what she had missed with a cracked head. Katie was ecstatic. "Congratulations, guys! What are you gonna tell the coach when you meet him, Harry?"

"That my head hurts, my throat burns and my friends hate me." Harry groaned, crossing his arms and putting them flat on the table, resting his head in between.

"Should you give it to him, now?" Hermione asked uncertainly as Katie laughed. "I think he's had enough . . ."

Angela tapped her chin thoughtfully before musing, "Nah. Methinks he needs around half an hour to finish her punishment. Remember, Katie and Parvarti? Young Harry here looked at mah boobs when I got some water on me."

Hermione gasped and smacked Harry in the back of the head repeatedly. "Harry James Potter! You should know better!"

Not moving, Harry moaned back, his voice muffled, "I couldn't help myself, 'Mione. I saw the nipples, too. Thought you should know."

The girls howled with laughter as Hermione picked up her thick book and started whacking Harry on the head over and over again. After a minute, she was interrupted from her rage when Professor McGonagall approached them, saying, "Ms. Granger, before you continue, may I ask as to why Mr. Potter is seemingly laying dead on the table, and why you are trying to smash his brains out with Standard Book of Spells: Year 4?" McGonagall asked sternly. The entire Great Hall turned to watch. Hermione blushed beet red under the attention, but was saved when Harry grumbled into the table, "She's made that I've seen the boobs of Angelina."

McGonagall blinked as the students close to Harry burst out laughing. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry picked his head up in his hands. "I said I drank a lot of F – er, Butterbeer last night, and my head hurst because I drank too much."

The Hall laughed as McGonagall sighed audibly. "Are you sure you didn't mean Firewhiskey, Mr. Potter? I wasn't aware that Butterbeer had any alcohol content."

The Hall laughed in louder at Harry's response: "Oh, it doesn't, but I drank so bloody much of it. So much bloody Butterbeer." He moaned pitifully. McGonagall tried to keep a smirk off her face as she went on, "Then why was there a flask Firewhiskey found in the library, in the spot where you and Ms. Johnson sat?"

The students leaned in to here Harry's answer, "I don't know, Professor. I don't never believe I wasn't not never going to not drink Firewhiskey. I mean, Butterbeer. Or Firewhiskey?"

This time, the Professor couldn't keep the smile off her face as everyone laughed. "Care to repeat that, Mr. Potter?"

"Don't think I could, Professor. You see, my head hurts."

McGonagall smiled, and amidst the laughter, said, "Ladies, please give Mr. Potter some of your potion. Ms. Granger, please stop violating Mr. Potter with your book. Ten points from Ms. Johnson and Mr. Potter for drinking illegal substances on the grounds. However, 20 points to each of you for becoming the youngest professional Quidditch players Hogwarts has ever taught."

Harry didn't react at all to the discussion until he downed the sickly green potion, and grimaced as he tasted it. "Eugh. Tastes like Firewhiskey."

With his last statement, McGonagall left as the students and teachers laughed and applauded at Harry's performance. When they audience's attention went back to their food, Angelina said loudly, "I could kiss you right now."

The Hall still quiet, Harry made as how of tasting the inside of his mouth. "I wouldn't go for it, Ann. Unless you'd fancy one last dose of the finest Wizarding whiskey around."

As the Great Hall had this last laugh, Angelina pulled Harry in for a kiss.

* * *

Updated 2/26/14 and also 3/31/14, changed the caskets to flasks, as made known to me by **_hornet07_**. Thanks, bro. You opened my eyes a bit.

Boom! That's around 6,500 words, not counting the A/N's! This one was fun to right. In the next chapter, expect there to be a lot more excitement. It'll be long, and will cover the present up to the Tri-Wizard drawing. Unfortunately, there are no Reviewer Responses in this chapter, as I don't have the time at the moment, but next chapter, I'll reply. Capisce? Good! See you in the next few days!


	7. Chapter 7

**The Greengrass Contract**

**by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: Really sorry about the long wait guys . . . I'm not going to try to give any excuses except that I swear to god my dog at my – erm – flash drive.

ALSO: This chapter is around 7,500 words, in celebration of my sister's birthday. I know you're reading, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY SIS!

ALSO: I won't be writing in Krum's accent, just imagine it, okay? I don't really know what a Bulgarian accent is like. However, I WILL be writing in Fleur's accent, since I know that one more. Got it?

ALSO: Angelina and Harry will break up in the next – say – five to ten chapters, which will clear up some room for a little Daphne/Harry time. It'll be mutual, though, I can tell you that.

ALSO: This will not be a harem story, because those are too . . . I don't know, really. Just understand that there won't be any harems. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I've realized that I haven't put in any disclaimers at all! I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated with it! This goes for all the chapters! NOW you can enjoy the Chapter.

Updated 3/6/14, lowered the age limit to 16. Now, read on!

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**Chapter 7: The Goblet**

* * *

Since later that day, the foreign schools, Beauxbatons from France and Durmstrang from Norway, were getting to Hogwarts that day, classes were once again canceled for the day. For the rest of the morning, Harry, Angelina, Katie, and the Weasley twins went to the pitch to practice. Angelina insisted that the teams she had selected were fair.

"George, Katie and I, versus you and Fred! Totally fair!" But in the end, they decided to play keep-away, boys versus girls, as the boys had two non-Chasers, and would be at the disadvantage. However, Harry was careful not to exert himself. He did, after all, have his first practice with the Under 17 English National Quidditch Team after lunch.

Thus, all too soon, lunch came, and Harry nervously played with his food. Angelina scolded him, "Eat up, Potter! You'll need it; you're going to be there for more than two hours."

Harry had sighed, picked up his fork, and started eating his chicken salad. But just as he started, he was stopped when a hand tapped his shoulder. He turned, and for the second time that day, found his Head of House behind him. She held out a one inch by one inch medallion, depicting a broomstick.

"Mr. Potter, this portkey will get you to the training grounds when you say your full name. George said to wear your best Muggle clothes, and to bring nothing else."

Harry, confused, took the medallion and slipped it into his pocket. "Why the good Muggle clothes?"

The Professor had only smiled at him and said, "That's not my place to say, Mr. Potter. Nevertheless, expect a lot of pictures." Harry shrugged in response. Looking down at his watch, he asked, "When does he want me there?" For it was, at the time, exactly twelve o'clock.

"Quarter after, sharp. Good luck, Mr. Potter." She smiled one last time, and left to the Head Table. Harry glanced nervously at his grinning girlfriend, and said, "Ann, can you help me with my clothes? I know what to wear, but my hair is rubbish."

In response, Angelina laughed. "I would've come anyway."

Within five minutes, Harry and Angelina had reached the common room. Harry was surprised to see Angelina follow him, but recalled that girls were allowed in the boys' dorm, but not vice versa. He quickly changed into nice black shoes, black slacks, and a dark green button-down shirt. Harry had rolled up the sleeves, and the actual shirt was fitted perfectly for his build, hugging his chest and shoulders. Angelina clapped.

"That's decent, but now for your hair!" For the next five minutes, Harry (eyes closed) let his hair be played with. After said time, Angelina squealed and said, "Open your eyes!"

Harry did so, and found that his hair had kept its messy demeanor, but seemed more tame. It looked as though Harry had finger-combed it perfectly, and he smiled. "Thanks a bunch, Ann." Harry grinned.

Checking his watch once more, he found it was 12:13, and so he turned to Ann. "What can a couple do for two minutes alone? Any suggestions?"

In answer, Angelina pulled him in and gave a quick kiss, but pushed him away. "That's just for luck. We'll see if you deserve more when you get back."

Harry smiled nervously, fiddling with the medallion that he had slipped around his neck. Tucking it under his shirt so that it touched his chest, he gave Angelina one last smile before

"Harry James Potter."

There was a **pop** and then a **crack** as Harry felt something hook his navel and pull him forward. Everything around him swirled into a green haze, and after some tossing and turning, Harry landed on his feet in a field of grass to see Mr. Harde right in front of him.

"Ah! Harry, you're a bit early. Let's get this show on the road! First, look around."

Harry did, and gaped. This pitch was the same size as the one at Hogwart's, but massive lights beamed down from above what seemed like humungous steel stands. To describe it, Harry would've said that it looked just like a football stadium. Above him, the sun was almost directly centered, and a breeze floated its way past him. The place was totally empty, save Harry and Mr. Harde.

Said man, who was dressed in a shirt and tie, put an arm around Harry. "You're looking good! Anyway, this stadium is used for all our practices and some of the home matches. The one this weekend against the Netherlands. After the conference, you'll change and practice with the boys here."

"Conference, sir?" Harry asked uncertainly, and Mr. Harde laughed.

"It's alright, nothing too difficult. We'll be going into the conference room, and you'll sit on one of the center chairs at the front of the room. I'll sit to the outside, next to you. The reporters will ask you a few questions, but if you feel uncomfortable with answering it, just say 'No comment,' and they'll let it be. Then, you'll follow me back out here, we'll hold up your jersey and shake hands, and they'll take a couple hundred pictures for the Daily Prophet and such. Remember to smile as much as you can without being bloody creepy. Got it?"

Harry nodded nervously as Mr. Harde led him off the pitch and into the locker rooms. They passed through them, and soon came into a large room with rows of plastic chairs lined in front of an elevated platform with a long desk, microphones, and water bottles on top. Harry noticed that there were four chairs rather than two, and when he asked his scout about it, he had waved it off.

"Krum and the coach from the Vultures are here, too, to discuss if he'll be transferred to Puddlemere or not. They'll be asking him questions, too."

As they both went onto the platform and sat, Harry shivered with nerves and excitement. He was meeting Krum, whom he had heard so much about. One of the best Seekers in the world, and only 17 years old.

As he thought, the door Mr. Harde and himself had come through burst open, to reveal a tall but surprisingly slim young man with bushy eyebrows, black eyes, and large nose. He was followed by a shorter, older gentlemen. Mr. Harde stood and greeted the older, and Harry stood as the young man approached. Harry found that he was only several inches shorter than the Seeker. Harry stretched out his hand.

"Viktor Krum? Honored to meet you." Harry said, determined not to let his voice crack, or to let him seem more excited than he actually was. The man raised a large eyebrow and took Harry's hand. He then spoke in a heavily accented voice, "Likewise. Are you the new addition to the Under 17 English National Squad?"

Harry nodded and withdrew his hand. "Yes, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

Krum let out a guffaw as he and Harry sat in their respective seats, Krum right next to him, in the center as well. "For real? Well, Harry, you will become more famous than ever before. I have overheard Damien, my coach, that the English younger squad was getting a new addition, and that he was very good. I'm surprised if several clubs haven't approached you already, as it is hard to get such high praise from Damien."

Harry grinned. "Puddlemere United are the only one who's approached me, but that's probably because I'm only 14."

Krum gaped. "Only 14? Then I'm very excited to watch you practice. I believe that you can become the best Chaser in the world by the time your my age, if you're as good as they say."

Harry shrugged modestly. "I hope I am. Anyway, this is a bit random, but what can I expect my wages to be if I get on your level by the time I'm 17?"

Krum tilted his head. "Chasers are paid a little more than Seekers, as they are more prone to injury. Right now, I'm making 75,000 galleons a month. The international Chasers of my caliber are making around 100,000."

Harry whistled. "I've heard that you're moving to Puddlemere. Hopefully, I'll see you there this summer."

Krum smiled. "I will look forward to it. How much did they offer you in wages?"

"500 galleons." Harry said, and Krum raised an eyebrow.

"Harry, you must get yourself an agent when you really go pro. If you make it onto Puddlemere's first team, they won't hesitate to raise it to 25,000 a month, give or take 5,000, depending on your skill level. The same goes with the U17 ENQT. If you make it onto the first team of the U17, you'll be able to ask for almost 30,000, and when you turn 17, you can ask for 100,000. That's not including any companies that want to sponsor you."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Are there any broom or clothes companies that you recommend?"

Krum nodded. "I'd say that the Firebolt company has the best quality and pay the most. They give me around 50,000 galleons a match. As for clothes, I prefer South America Magical Athletics, as they have the finest material, sewn from the hairs of an old dragon's whiskers."

Harry looked at him, alarmed and amazed, and Krum laughed. "I am kidding, Harry. They use cloth from the Lethifold. SAMA's has several Lethifold farms, where they study and kill the beasts by getting a dozen powerful wizards and casting _Patronuses_ on it at the same time. The cloth is like silk, and as light as air. They also conform perfectly to the person wearing it. They are top quality, and SAMA pay me around 50,000 a match."

Harry shivered. Lethifolds were one of the darkest creatures, and closely related to dementors. They looked like black cloaks, floating along the ground, and when they find a victim, they envelope them in their beds and suffocate them, digesting them in the same spot.

They were interrupted as a massive crowd of wizards and witches (mostly witches) streamed into the room from a set of double doors behind the rows of chairs. Krum glanced sideways at Harry and asked him if he'd done this before, to which Harry answered, "No."

Krum smiled sympathetically. "Just do what I do, Harry, and you'll survive."

Once the reporters had taken their seats, they immediately took out notepads and massive old fashioned cameras. Mr. Harde stood up and said, "Welcome, everyone. We'll get this started right away. I'm George Harde, scout and assistant coach for the U17 and adult ENQT. On the end is Damien Polskoff, head coach and manager of the Vratsa Vultures,"

Damien stood and bowed, and the audience clapped respectfully.

"- and next to him is Viktor Krum, 17 year old Seeker for the Bulgarian national team and the Vratsa Vultures, here to answer your questions and to discuss any transfer updates."

More clapping, and a few cheers as Krum didn't do anything other than nod. Mr. Harde continued, "And this is the newest signing to the U17 ENQT, who will be receiving his jersey today. He is 14 year old Chaser, Harry James Potter, also here to answer questions."

Harry managed a smile and a casual one finger salute to the reporters. They clapped and cheered like mad, and quills scratched against notepads, and many photos were taken.

Mr. Harde grinned at them all. "Alright, let's get started!" As he said this, the reporters began calling out the two Quidditch players' names and waving their hands. Mr. Harde selected someone in the front row, who stood up and said, "Mr. Potter! When did you become a Chaser? And why? You were a Seeker before, were you not?"

Harry said quietly but clearly into the microphone, "I was, up until this year. Over the summer, I exercised and was able to fill out a bit. When I went back to Hogwarts to try out for the inter-house team, I found that though I was stronger, that my movements were slower. I decided to try and play as a Chaser because my father was, and because I'm a bit too – erm – large for the Seeker position."

"You mean buff?" one of the younger female reporters called out, and Harry shrugged.

"You can call it that if you wish." The crowd laughed as Mr. Harde selected another one.

"This is for both of you – sorry if this is too personal, but what are your religious views?" he asked, and Harry gestured to Krum, who answered slowly, "It is my understanding that most magical peoples are Christian, although they do not practice, or believe in the after life. I share these views."

Harry answered next, after a moment's hesitation. "I've never really given it much thought, but what I will say is that while I respect the Judeo-Christian ethic, along with the Eastern philosophies and the teachings of Muhammad, I've found that organized religion has corrupted those beliefs, to justify countless atrocities throughout history. Were I to title myself to a certain religion, I'd be a hypocrite. Thus, you can call me a nonreligious, with morals."

The crowd whistled appreciatively as one called out, "That's deep for a young man.", and Harry smirked. "I try."

The next question was, "This is for both of you, and is for Teen Witches' Weekly. Do either of you have a special girl in your life?"

Both young men smiled. Viktor said, "I am currently beginning a relationship with a girl that I've recently met. As such, I am unavailable."

Harry answered, "I've recently gone into a relationship with a girl, but we both agree it won't be long term. Everyone needs to experiment, right?"

Someone called out, "Right!" as Harry continued, "It is also a problem that she, too, will be signing to a Quidditch club, and we don't want to compete with this relationship intact. Also, he is two years older than me, and will be leaving Hogwarts either next year or the year after that."

The crowd sighed sympathetically, and Mr. Harde selected the next reporter. "Have either of you been approached by any major clubs, other than you're own, Viktor?"

Viktor looked at his coach, who nodded, and he said to the reporter, "I will be moving to Puddlemere United in the summer, as the Vultures feel that with the transfer money they make with me, they can build a stronger team all around."

After a moment of reporters scribbling this new information down, Harry answered, "I, too, have been approached by Puddlemere, and will most likely be moving there this summer. Although I am not 15 yet, I may be an emancipated adult, and will check during the winter holidays."

The next question was, "Mr. Krum, I understand that you will be visiting Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard tournament. Will either of you enter?"

Viktor answered, "I will be entering, not for the money, but for the honor of representing Durmstrang."

Harry answered, "Absolutely not. I am not old enough, and I have too much going on right now. Besides, I need neither the money nor the fame."

After twenty minutes, the final question was, "How was both your first kisses?"

Viktor smiled and said, "I hit her in the eye with my nose."

The crowd and Harry guffawed, and after a minute, Harry answered, "It was perfect until she pushed me off the broom."

The room continued to laugh at their unfortunate kisses, and Mr. Harde finally said, "That'll be all for today. Harry, if you'd follow me -"

Harrys stepped off the platform and followed Mr. Harde back through the locker room, back out to the pitch, Viktor and the reporters following. Turning, Mr. Harde presented one side of a white jersey with, "H. J. Potter" sewn onto the back. Under that, there was a large "11". Harry smiled at the cameras as he shook Mr. Harde's hand over the outstretched jersey.

After several minutes, Mr. Harde shooed the reporters to the stands, and Harry was pushed into the locker room and to go to the cubby with his name engraved. Harry did, and changed into the presented clothes. There were tight red pants and fitted red shirt, with what looked like white armor on top of it. Slipping on the jersey, it automatically conformed with his body, and then stuck there so that they wouldn't billow around in the wind. He then slipped on some brown shoes and jogged out back onto the pitch.

Looking around the stands, he found the same reporters filling up a small portion of the stadium, with a lot more being filled with random people. When Harry asked Mr. Harde about it, he said, "People come and watch the practices for free."

Looking beyond Mr. Harde to the center of the pitch, he found that the U17 squad were all conversing with one another, and they all seemed to be the same height as Harry. As Harry approached the dozen kids, they all stopped talking and studied the newcomer, and Harry studied them in turn. The majority were boys, but there were around four girls, all of whom were short but strong. After Harry shifting nervously, one of the players tossed him a Firebolt.

The tallest in the group came forward. "Here, kid. Harry Potter, was it? We're going to start practice. Just follow me around and do what the boys do while we do. If you end up being good, we'll treat you like another teammate. If you suck or cause trouble, you'll get shunned. Understand?"

"Course." Harry said, rolling his shoulders. "When do we start?"

The team grinned. "Now, Potter. Up we go!" In a second, the squad was in the air, and Harry quickly hopped on his and flew up to meet them. The tall boy studied him. "Good grip, not wavering. Nice start. Now, let's fly a few laps. And when I say fly a few laps, I mean that all contact is allowed, and you will try to push each other off their brooms as you circle around. There are cushioning charms all over the ground, so if you fall, you should sow down enough before you hit the ground. Though this isn't allowed in a real game, it will happen, and you'll have to react. Now, go!"

Harry followed the squad to the outside of the pitch, next to the stands as they began to circle. Harry flew up to the left, on the inside of the circle, so that if he was bumped, he wouldn't hit the stadium. Glancing to his left, he found that already there were several boys who had been thrown off, and lay on the ground below. Harry was jolted from his thoughts as a shoulder bashed into his. Looking over, he found a burly Beater watching him closely, and he came in for another hit.

At the last second, Harry spun upwards and over him, and then bashed him in the same direction he was going. The boy swerved off course, and swerved once again to narrowly miss the hoops, but fell as he was upside-down, and his broom couldn't support his speed towards the ground. And so as he fell, Harry had to swerve to avoid yet another bash.

Lowering himself to his previous position, he found that there were only himself and four other people were left. Harry waited until another one fell when he decided to begin his own attack. Pulling forward several feet in front of the leader, Harry waited until they had circled around the round part of the pitch, and then initiated his attack. He stopped abruptly, and the boy behind him's shoulder was hit with Harry's shoe. The boy lurched sideways and ways able to hold onto his broom with one hand until he let go, falling below.

Harry looked again to the side, and seeing no one there, began to smile, but was interrupted when something caught his shoe, and he was sent barrel-rolling at just the wrong time; they were nearing the bend, and as a result, the attacker hoped to have Harry crash against the hoops. Flattening himself to his broom, Harry used his momentum to guide his body and broom straight through the bottom right hoop, his sides barely scraping the rounded metal. Spinning back out, he found that the person who had hit him, a girl with short brown hair, was watching him with respect. Harry sat straighter in his broom as a feeling of pride filled his system.

Before he could plan out his next move, however, the tall boy blew a whistle, and the girl turned to the sound and flew over. Harry followed dutifully.

When they'd reached the throng of people, the tall boy grinned at Harry. "Nice flying, Potter. That's the first time I've seen someone spin right through a hoop and still fly." Turning and nodding to the girl, he said, "Same with you, Vang. Nice job of avoiding the others, the both of you."

Quickly moving on, he said, "Now we'll practice with the individual Chasers. All you Beaters, get over to the sides of the pitch, two on each side. Chasers, stay here, and Keepers, form a line behind the posts, with the starter in front. Seekers, fly up and watch. You'll be telling me how they did what, since I can only watch from one angle."

As the players scattered, Harry noticed that there were three Seekers, three Keepers, four Beaters, and four Chasers, including Harry. The tall boy then cast an amplifying charm on his voice and explained, "Alright, guys, this is how it's going to go down. Mr. Harde!" He called down to the ground. Mr. Harde was underneath them, with a chest full of Bludgers and a sack of Quaffles at his feet. "You'll release the Bludgers and charm them to go to the Beaters. When I blow the whistle, the Beaters will try and hit the Bludgers so that they hit the Chasers, who will be receiving a pass from me. The Keepers will swap out every time there's a shot. Alright, Chasers? Form a line behind me."

The Chasers did so as Mr. Harde charmed two bludgers to go to a Beater on each side. Harry was third in his line, with two girls in front of him, and one boy behind him. One of those girls was the one that had flipped him, and Harry told himself to watch the girl, as he felt he could pick up a few things from her.

The tall boy flew far to the side, near the stadium stands, and levitated the sack of Quaffles up to him. Tying them to the back of his broom, he took one out and prepared to throw, calling out, "On my whistle! Three, two, *_tweet_!*"

The first Chaser in line zoomed forward and swerved around one of the Bludgers with a jerk. Fumbling for the Quaffle that had been thrown at her, she tried to throw, but without the proper grip, the Keeper was able to kick it away. When the Quaffle hit the ground, Mr. Harde charmed them so that they flew themselves back into the tall boy's bag.

Vang zoomed forward next, spun, caught the Quaffle, and took a straight, hard shot off. The Keeper was able to punch away the ball as Vang swerved to avoid two bludgers.

Harry pushed himself forward, and checked shoulders, checking where the next Quaffle would go for him. Catching it with one hand, he tucked it under his arm as he heard a bludger race towards him. Looking over, he found it several meters away, aiming for his left thigh, so Harry lifted his leg and stamped it it, causing it to fly away and relocate to a Beater. Awkwardly avoiding the next bludger, Harry looked up and in a split second located the Keeper, who was guarding the post closest to Harry, which was the left side. Replicating what he had done in the try outs, Harry twisted his body, hooked his fingers on one side of the ball, and let it loose, twisting his hand at the last minute, aiming about a foot to the right of the far right hoop. The Keeper wasn't able to reach it, but unfortunately, the ball didn't have enough curve, and was only able to hit the rim, sending a hum through the whole stadium from the force of the impact.

Harry flew back in line, and Vang glanced at him. "Nice kick, Potter." She said amused at the way Harry had gotten rid of the bludger, and the 14 year old shrugged. "I try."

After several repetitions of this drill (which took almost an hour), the tall boy blew the whistle once more, and the Bludgers flew down towards the ground. The tall boy flew down as well, and the team followed him. Once they'd landed, the tall boy stood next to Mr. Harde and looked out at the dozen.

"Nice practice today. Potter, you've earned my respect. That was some nice defensive maneuvering and field positioning. You've earned a spot as a sub at this weekend's game against the Dutch. Nice job. Everyone else? You all smell. Hit the showers."

The squad chuckled as they left to do just that, the girls going to their designated locker rooms and the boy's theirs. Before he went in, the tall boy stopped him and held out his hand. "The name's Joe Jaffney, captain of the team, and I'd like to say that you're very good for a 14 year old. In fact, most of the guys here are 16, and you're as good as and better than most of them. Welcome to the team."

Harry smiled and shook the hand. "It's great to be here, Joe."

Joe nodded as he withdrew his hand. "And don't worry about being on the subs for long, Harry. The other boy Chaser is turning 17 next week, and'll be leaving the squad. You'll be getting first team minutes by the end of the month, I assure you. Concerning this weekend's game, we'll sub you in when one of the others gets tired. Before you ask, I'm also a Chaser, and do play for the squad as the center. What position do you prefer?"

Harry smiled. "The left. I like to curve it on my right side, and being on the left lets me let loose."

Joe grinned. "I hear you. We'll be meeting here on Sunday at 9:30, and the game'll be played here, since it's home. See you there."

With that, Mr. Harde approached him. "Nice practice, kid. It's almost six already, so you don't have time to change here. Here are your clothes, and you can use the portkey now. You can change at Hogwarts, as the other schools are getting there in half an hour. I'll see you at the game." He handed Harry a pile of his dress clothes, with something else on top. It was white and looked silky. When he asked, Mr. Harde explained, "It's a jacket you get for getting on the team. It's made of Lethifold skin, and very rare. Don't screw it up."

Harry nodded and said his full name. His navel was hooked by nothing, and everything around him swirled in color.

**OooOooO**

Harry's vision stopped spinning, and he found himself landing on the main street of Hogsmeade. As he stood up and brushed himself off, he glanced around into the mid afternoon, reasoning that Hogwarts probably didn't let people port key in, and most likely relocated him to the next safest spot. Noticing the Three Broomsticks to his right, he stepped in and was greeted by the pretty Madam Rosmerta.

"Harry Potter! Drafted by England, eh? Congrats!" She said, polishing a glass. Harry now understood why Ron would fancy her, as she was still pretty as ever; large assets, curly dirty blonde hair, and a fair face. Despite her appearance, Harry felt no other feelings other than gratitude towards her.

"Thanks, Rosmerta. Can I borrow a room for a moment? I'd just like to change from these clothes." Harry explained, plucking at his Quidditch robes. Rosmerta beamed and nodded, ushering him to the back and into an empty room, similar to his own at the Leaky Cauldron, and left him to change. After a moment's hesitation, Harry called out experimentally, "Dobby?"

There was a **pop**, and a small wrinkled grey creature with large eyes and thin bat-like ears appeared in front of him. With a squeak, it leapt forward and latched itself onto Harry's calf.

"Oh, Dobby was being wondered about when the great Mr. Harry Potter sir would call! What can Dobby do for the noble and brave Boy-Who-Keeps-Living?"

Harry smirked at his newly given title. "Hi, Dobby. I was just wondering if you could grab some of my Muggle clothes from my dorm. It's next to my storage chest, if you need to know. And while you're there, can you drop these off, too?" Harry held out the portion of his pile of clothes that he'd worn for his interview.

Dobby took them and cried, "Dobby bes back in a second!" And, sure enough, several seconds later after he had popped out, Dobby returned with a different set of clothes: the jeans and t-shirt and hoodie he'd worn earlier that day.

Harry then ordered Dobby to leave for a moment as he changed. Dobby left and Harry changed, although refrained from putting on his hoodie, and instead studied the gift from Mr. Harde. It was a thin, silky athletic half-zip jacket, and Harry figured that the jacket must've been charmed white, for Harry had understood that Lethifolds were black and could withstand almost any form of attack other than Patronuses. Harry hoped that those traits would carry on to its clothing. After a quick charm-detection charm, Harry learned that the jacket was also charmed with a warm-cool charm, where it would become warm when you're cold, or cold when your warm. Studying the design, Harry smiled at the initial white, and then the large red cross that stretched from its right shoulder to its right hip, and the horizontal stripe around the stomach area. On its left breast was a small badge in the shape of a shield, depicting a red broomstick with 'ENQT' in red underneath it.

Upon slipping it on, Harry marveled at how cool it felt on his arms, and how he could barely feel any weight on his shoulders. Harry then decided to conduct further research on its spell-resistance, and to also ask Viktor about it. He most likely had one, too.

When he called Dobby back in, he said, "Dobby, can you pop me into the castle?"

Dobby shook his head, ears flapping. "No, Mr. Harry Potter sir. The wards doesn't allows wizards or witches to get in. Only elveses."

Harry frowned, and then asked, "This is for my friend. Why is it that house-elves don't want to be master-less? Other than it's imbedded into your brains."

Dobby froze, but after smacking his own head a few times, he gestured for Harry to lean forward. When he'd done so, Dobby whispered conspiratorially, "The free elveses bes losing their magics, sir."

Harry blinked and stepped back. "Really? Why?"

Dobby looked up at him with his large eyes. "House elveses be made from Erklings many centuries ago. The only way we is staying like this is because wes is using magic from master's core. When an elf is bonded to a master, their magics is linked. If we become master-less, we bes turning into Erklings, sir."

Harry knit his eyebrows. "Erklings? I've heard of those, but what are they, really?"

Dobby shivered. "They is as tall as us, but they look like birds, with really long beaks. They cackle, and that draws children to them, and then they eats them. House-elveses don't tell our masters why we don't want to be freed because they might be scared."

Harry whistled. "Thanks a lot for telling, Dobby. Here, you can take my Quidditch robes back and put it on my bed, and then do what you were doing before. Thanks loads for everything else."

After Dobby had gushed and thanked him profusely, he popped out. Harry then left the room and, after exchanging flirtatious compliments with Rosmerta, made his way up the trail towards his school.

**OooOooO**

Thirty minutes later, Harry (who had jogged the entire way to test out his jacket's effects), had reached the large double doors of Hogwarts. Once he'd slipped inside, he found Angelina (clothed in school robes) waiting for him.

"Harry! How was it? Wait! Never mind, you're late! The schools have already gotten here. Also, there's VIKTOR BLOODY KRUM at the Gryffindor table asking which house Harry Potter was in. He's sitting there right now, waiting for you! Wait! You're not changed! Oh, never mind that, let's go! Come on! Your late!"

Harry smiled at her rapid speech and pulled her in for a hug and a quick kiss before they linked hands and made their way into the Great Hall.

When they were in, Harry found the whole school sitting at their tables, with a dozen beautiful light-blue clad girls sitting at the Ravenclaw table, and a dozen fur-clad guys sitting at the Gryffindor table. Seeing Viktor talking with Katie Bell and the Weasley twins, Harry grinned and made his way over.

Upon seeing him, Viktor grinned and stood up, taking Harry's hand and then embracing him.

"Harry, you're here! I had to leave halfway through your practice, but the rumors are true. You are very good." Viktor said deeply, and Harry smirked in return.

"Thanks man. Now, sit! I've got to ask you several questions." Harry ordered, and they both sat, Hermione next to Krum and Angelina next to Harry, who was oblivious to the stares of all those in the Hall at his friendly greeting with the professional Seeker.

"Let me introduce all these guys, even though you've already met them. These two are Fred and George Weasley, don't ask me which is which, because no one cares, their basically the same. That's Katie Bell, a very good Chaser, who was sadly injured during the inter-house tryouts and can't play Chaser. But somehow, she miraculously survived the fall off her broom."

Katie rolled her eyes and said playfully, "Don't be so modest, you idiot. You bloody caught me. Some miracle."

Harry quickly moved on as they laughed, "That over there is Hermione Granger, smartest female Gryffindor,"

"Why female?" Hermione said smirking. "For the past four years, I've seen no decently clever guys."

Harry clutches his heart. "I am wounded, 'Mione. A word of warning: I plan to match you in the exams this year. I studied like bloody mad last summer."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry continued, "Right next to Katie is Patricia Stimpson, who is the girls' friend, and that's all I know. Sorry, Patricia. Next to Hermione is Ginny Weasley, who will hex your balls off if you mention anything about how her hundreds of recent boyfriends, and across from her is Neville, who is brilliant at Herbology but is too shy to do anything else. Sorry, Nev, but it's true. Down there next to Gin is her brother, Ronald, who's been a bit of a twat recently. And this is Angelina, star Chaser and the prettiest student at this table other than me."

Everyone laughed as Angelina grinned and socked Harry on the shoulder. "I think you're the star Chaser now, Harry."

Viktor grinned and addressed her, "Is Harry your boyfriend?"

As Angelina nodded, Harry muttered loudly, "More like slave."

They laughed again before Harry said, "And this is Viktor Krum, who will most likely punch you in the face if you call him Vikky."

Viktor blinked. "Vikky? Are you ready to kiss my fist?"

Everyone laughed once again before Dumbledore stood up and tapped his goblet. He then began his speech:

"Welcome to Hogwarts, students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. And will you also welcome Ms. Olympe Maxine and Igor Karkaroff, Headmistress and Headmaster of these schools?"

Everyone politely applauded as Dumbledore continued, "Now. I'm sure most of you have heard of the TriWizard Tournament. For those who haven't, the Tournament is a set of three tasks that three students (one from each school) will compete in each. Due to numerous deaths and/or injuries, the age limit of entry has been raised to 16 years of age. To enter, a student must right their name on a slip of parchment and place it into the Goblet of Fire."

Upon saying this, a large goblet of about three feet tall materialized in front of the Head table. It lit itself, causing blue and green flames to explode forth from its depths.

"Although I must warn you; the stakes are high. Death is extremely possible, as are mortal injuries, and I'd advise you to think through it wisely before entering."

Dumbledore then continued to talk about the restrictions and the Forbidden Forest and whatnot. When he'd finished, he announced, "Enough of that! Let the Feast commence!"

Food appeared in front of them, and they all dug in.

When Harry had piled on a mountain of salad onto his plate, the Weasley twins shook their heads at him.

"Poor ickle Harry -"

"- limiting himself -"

"- to only the green side of food."

Harry smirked before beginning to eat. Viktor smiled at him.

"I admire your healthy choice, although I must say that you're missing out on a nice steak." Upon saying this, Viktor popped a piece of meat into his mouth.

Harry grinned, and the next ten minutes were spent talking and laughing and eating. Harry suddenly remembered what he wanted to ask his friend.

"Hey Viktor, when you got onto the national team, did they give you a jacket made of Lethifold skin?"

Viktor grinned and nodded, plucking at Harry's jacket. "Yes. It has helped me on many occasions, although yours is much nicer. The Bulgarian flag is an ugly clash of green and red and white."

Harry smiled and continued, "What is it resistant to?"

Viktor tapped his chin. "So far, I've found that it is resistant to most direct offensive spells, like the _stupefy_ and _expelliarmus_, but it won't help against many physical things, like ropes or flying objects. It is water proof, but I don't know about fire."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant. It feels amazing."

Viktor nodded before asking, "Are there any fitness clubs here? Back at the Institute, we run every morning and have free time to swim in the lake. It is cold, but exhilarating."

Harry shook his head. "There aren't any official clubs, but I get up every morning at around seven and then do a lap or two around the lake. You can tag along if you want."

Viktor nodded. "I will. Does anyone else come?"

Harry nodded. "A pair of twins, the Patils, and Katie and Ann."

Viktor grinned. "Starting a harem, Harry?"

Harry shivered. "No way. Handling one temperamental female is enough for me."

Angelina swatted him with a smile, and Harry continued, "Where are you guys going to sleep? The guys from Durmstrang, I mean."

"We have been told to find the Fat Lady, and then turn right. They told us the password to get through the door."

Harry nodded. "The Fat Lady is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Tomorrow morning, you can ask the Fat Lady to tell whoever is inside that you're there, and they should let you in. One of the twins isn't in Gryffindor, so you can meet with her there."

Viktor nodded, and the group continued to laugh and eat. After several minutes, Harry heard a girl clear her throat behind them. Turning with Viktor, Harry was met with a beautiful Beauxbatons girl, with magnificent curves and amazing long hair framing a fair face. Viktor's mouth opened slightly as he gazed at her, and Harry saw that the Weasley twins were gaping as well.

The girl tossed her hair and asked in a heavily accented voice, "Vill you be 'aving the boullabaise?"

No one answered, and Harry said, "No, would you like some?"

For a moment, the girl watched him, and Harry stared into her eyes. After a few moment, Harry raised an eyebrow, and she answered with a massive smile, "I vould."

Harry turned and picked up the small bowl, and then placed it into the soft hands of the girl. She beamed and said, "Thank you . . . ?"

Harry stood and smiled. "Harry. Harry Potter."

The girl grinned and put out one of her hands to shake his, but Harry smirked and took it, lifted it to his mouth, and bent over and kissed it lightly. She then said, "Thank you very much, 'Arry. I am Fleur Delacour."

Harry smiled and said, "Well, you're very much welcome, Miss Delacour."

With that, Harry turned and sat. Not knowing it, Fleur stood watching him with a broad smile still on her face before turning and walking back to the Ravenclaw table, her hips swaying with a graceful beauty.

Harry resumed his meal, oblivious to the stares around him. He looked up, and said, "What are you guys looking at?"

Angelina punched him in the arm, and Harry flinched and grumbled, "What's that for?"

His girlfriend mock-glared at him. "That's for flirting with a pretty French witch."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I wasn't flirting -"

He was cut off when Angelina leaned in and pressed her lips against his. "And that's for not giving in to her allure."

Harry looked around at the boys, who's eyes were slightly glazed over. "What do you mean?"

One of the twins shook his head in amazement. "Blimey, Harry, do you know who that was?"

Harry shook his head and glanced at Viktor. He, too, was staring at him with a slightly dumfounded expression. Down the line, Ronald was still staring at the girl, his mouth hanging open.

Without waiting for his answer, the other twin continued, "That was a Veela, Harry."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh! That explains the pull. When I talked to her, I felt like I should hug her, but it wasn't anything major. It felt like there was a breeze on my face. I just ignored it."

Viktor whistled. "Harry, that's not what we felt. I felt like I should tell her that I was a superstar, and I wanted to do something amazing to win her approval."

The Weasley twins agreed. Harry shrugged and started eating again. "Whatever. It probably has something to do with what Madam Pomfrey told me in Second year, when I'd broken my arm and the idiot, Lockhart, tried to fix it. The douche bag ended up vanishing all of the bones in my arm, and I had to drink Skele-grow in order to get them back. Madam Pomfrey said that it should feel like my arm was exploding, but all I felt was a sharp pain in my arm."

Viktor shivered. "I had to use Skele-grow once, when I'd fallen off my broom on my first match with the Vultures. I got hit by a bludger in the foot, and it broke." Everyone shivered, bu then he continued, "It twisted me off my broom, and the referee had been too enamored by our Veela cheerleaders that he'd forgotten to freshen the cushioning charms. When I landed on the ground, the same ankle hit first, and **snap**!" Viktor clapped his hands, and everyone winced. "My skin broke, and a piece of bone was sticking out of my foot."

Neville looked like he was about to throw up. Viktor shivered. "They had to vanish the bone, since they couldn't push it in or pull it out. When I took the Skele-grow, it hurt more than the actual breaking."

Harry nodded. "It sucked, but in the morning when I said that it just felt like splinters, she told me that I have a high pain threshold."

Viktor looked at him. "What do you think you got it from?"

Harry's eyes darkened, and he remembered his time at the Dursleys, and how many times his arms had been broken, and how many ribs he had cracked. After a time, the pain became bearable. "I don't really wish to talk about that."

Viktor looked at Angelina, who gave him a look that said, "I'll tell you later."

After Harry stopped glaring at his plate, they continued eating, and soon finished. The food vanished, and Dumbledore announced that they had that night and the following morning to enter themselves into the Goblet.

"Are you entering, Viktor?" Harry asked, and Viktor nodded. Harry turned to Angelina as everyone began standing and leaving to their common rooms. "Are you?"

Angelina grinned and nodded. "I think that it'll be great. I probably won't get picked, but whatever. Gotta take risks and things."

Harry agreed, and soon the group of Gryffindors and Durmstrang students had made their way to the Fat Lady. When they'd said their goodbyes and 'see you in the mornings', they all went to bed to sleep in excitement for the drawing the next day.

* * *

Updated 3/5/14, added like three words.

A/N: Sorry, but I'm putting off the Drawing until next chapter. The word count on this chapter really began to rack up, and I decided enough is enough.

ALSO: Sorry if you thought the dynamics between Harry and Daphne changed quickly, but I believe that they both understand each other pretty well. Daphne, having heard Harry's story, decided that they were in the same boat, and their boat wouldn't get anywhere if they didn't try.

_Trintiger_: Ron won't rape anyone (although I'm not saying he won't attempt to), and no, this won't be a harem story. Sorry!

_Hornet07_: Thanks for pointing that out, I didn't realize how big caskets are until I really thought about it so I've changed it. Thanks!

_Puma1sunfire_: Drama will ensue soon.

_iDrinkCoffee_: That's a good idea! . . . nah, just kidding. Harry's too healthy and self-conscious to become an alcoholic.

_Colmshan13_: Ron will turn around soon, but you'll see. Even so, you can blame my exaggerated character flaws on my morbid hate for Ron. I don't know why, although it's probably because I wanted Harry to end up with Hermione in the end . . . oh well!


	8. Chapter 8

**The Greengrass Contract**

**by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: Guys, I'm super sorry for my absence. My family took a trip to the South during my Spring Break (which has just ended), and on top of that, track season started a few weeks ago.

ALSO: Although none of you have mentioned it, I know that the timelines are a bit messed up. The Drawing was supposed to be held on Halloween, but I shortened it a bit, because something else big will happen then. Don't worry, the time line will straighten itself out for the First Task, which will take place on the 24th of November.

ALSO: There's only one reviewer response at the end of the chapter, because I haven't had much to time look them over.

WAIT! I can't believe I forgot . . . Angelina will break up with Harry in the next week (in the story, not real time). There should be some more Haphne going on in the next few chapters or so.

**ALSO: If you're bored, please go check out my new Hunger Games story.** I've been reading too much HG fanfiction stories in the past week . . .

Disclaimer: Me no own Harry Potter. Me own nothing. Me own any OC's, but there is no OC's, so me own nothing.

Sorry about the long Author's Note! Now, enjoy this chapter that is around 4,000 words. See you at the end!

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Drawing**

**September 4th, 1994**

* * *

When he woke up the next morning, Harry found that the curtains around his bed were open, and a must, warm orange light was streaking in from the window. Harry smiled, sitting up, as he watched the rising sun low in the sky, which was (very gradually) meandering its way towards the great big blanket of dark grey clouds that spanned the entire sky.

Harry hopped out of his bed and unlatched the window, letting the cool, moist air burst forth into his dormitory. Although he knew his comrades would soon get up and protest, Harry breathed it in, tingling as goosebumps appeared on his arms. The atmosphere smelled wet, and Harry loved it. His famous time of year was spring, as the rain that came in the gallons would bring along with it its moist, pleasant smelling air.

Shutting the window, Harry proceeded to go about his morning routine. When his body was clean, he slipped on his jogging pants, t-shirt, and new jacket. With the sleek apparel snug on his body, he left his dorm and descended down the stairs and into the common room, his shoes in his hand, as he was a little late for his run with his little group.

Angelina, Katie, and Parvarti were already there, and they greeted each other. As they did, they heard the Fat Lady's voice: "Gryffs on the inside, there's a young man and lady seeking entrance."

Harry replied, "We'll be right out. Thanks."

Slipping on his sneaker, Harry, followed by the three girls, opened the door and exited past the swung-open portrait. They were met by Padma and Viktor, the former wearing her usual running clothes, and the latter wearing jogging pants and a jacket very similar to Harry's, although with diagonal stripes of red, green, and white. The small emblem also depicted to broomsticks that crossed, although underneath it was 'БHкг', which translated to the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team. In addition, said jacket sported a thin hood. Gesturing for them to follow, Harry set out at a jog down the hall.

"Why does your jacket have a hood?" Harry asked his male friend after greeting him.

Viktor answered, "It is a simple modification charm. I'll show you when we get outside."

When the six reached the outdoor stone walkway that stopped at two dirt (actually, more like mud) paths, one heading towards Hagrid's Hut the other winding its way towards Black Lake, Harry stopped them. Viktor pulled out his wand from a pocket sewn into the back of his calf. Tapping it on Harry's shoulder, he intoned, "_Cucullus_,"

A white hood materialized at the base of Harry's neck, and he said his thanks. Glancing out at the moderate downpour, Harry said, "Viktor, let's get some warming charms on these ladies."

And the two young men did, and Angelina smirked and said, "That felt like Harry was giving me a nice rub."

Harry blushed as the others laughed. "Let's get going, you ungrateful lot." he grumbled, and soon the six were at a steady jog towards the lake, throughout which Harry marveled at his jacket's ability to keep him dry, as well as pleasantly warm.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

When they'd finished half an hour later, they all headed to the Great Hall for the morning breakfast. Piling the usual on their plates, they all began conversing as the other students began to trickle in.

Harry shook his head. "Wow. Three days in a row without having to wear those terrible school robes. It's a miracle, I say."

They all agreed as they began to finish their food. Glancing up at the still flaming Goblet, Harry noticed a pale white line snaking around the piece of metal, giving it around a three foot girth. "Are you two entering soon? You'll have to before tonight."

Angelina conjured a parchment and took out her quill and scribbled her name down. Ripping off a piece and handing it to Viktor, who accepted her quill and did the same with his name. Grabbing his hand, Angelina then got up and trotted forward to the Goblet, Viktor trailing behind. Detaching herself from Harry, his girlfriend stepped over the line, and let go of a breath she'd been holding. Looking up at the fire, Angelina reached up and flicked her paper into the fire.

As applause and cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, Harry heard a set of voices weaving their way towards the Goblet.

"Exqueeze me -"

"coming through -"

"Gred and Forge, on the way -"

The Weasley twins walked their way to the Goblet, and took side next to Harry.

"Gred? What d'you reckon?"

"I don't know, Forge. I reckon we drink up."

Harry quickly backed away as the twins faced each other. Taking out identical flasks of a potion, they said in unison, "Bottoms up, lovely brother."

Linking their arms, they took a long swig from their respective flasks. After a moment, the two hopped sideways into the ring. After a moment's hesitation, they cheered and fist-pumped as the Gryffindor table erupted in laughs and cheers. As they both reached up, however, the line along the ground snaked their way to both boy's heels, and threw them away from the Goblet and into Harry with an "Ooof!"

Pushing them off, Harry found that the twins were now sporting identical grey beards, and they noticed too. Looking at each other, they said,

"Gred?"

"Yeah, Forge?"

"I do believe that the puberty bunny has finally whacked us with it harry bump of a tail."

"I do believe you're right, Forge. But the question is, where else have we been affected?"

The two boys froze as the Great Hall howled with laughter, and the twins made a show of checking their pants before rushing out of the Hall.

After several minutes, Viktor also entered his name, to the polite applause of the Durmstrang students at the Gryffindor table.

When they'd finished conversing about the events to come, the group of friends broke off to go to their own activities for the rest of the day. For Padma and Parvarti, that meant joining Lavender Brown and the other girls of the year to roam the halls and gossip about the boy of the year (mainly Harry). For Hermione, that meant finding a nice place to hunker down and read comfortably. For the four Quidditch players, that meant – well – doing all things Quidditch. Deciding to go the pitch to practice (Hermione tagging along to find a nice place in the stands to read), the rest of the group went off to grab their brooms and have a nice, cool, moist day, filled with flying.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

The morning flew by, as did lunch. When lunch ended, Angelina posted in the Great Hall the official teams for the inter-school Quidditch tournament.

**Inter-School Quidditch Tournament**

**(positions on field in written order)**

1st Team

Chasers: Harry Potter (A) | Angelina Johnson (C) | Marcus Flint

Beaters: Fred Weasley | George Weasley

Keeper: Grant Page

Seeker: Cedric Diggory

Reserves/Substitutes

Chasers: Heidi Macavoy | Roger Davies (C) | Ginny Weasley

Beaters: Lucian Boyle | Peregrine Derek

Keeper: Herbert Fleet (A)

Seeker: Cho Chang

Harry had grinned and asked, "Didn't Ginny try out for Seeker? And what does the (C) and (A) mean?"

To which Angelina had answered, "The (C) means the first captain, and the (A) means the alternate captain, in case the first gets injured. I made Ginny a Chaser because while you were engrossed in our excellent snog, Ginny was helping some of the younger Chasers like a champ. She was very good."

And so that was that. Draco once again complained about not making onto even the reserve team ("Stupid mudblood-lover favoritism!"), as did others, but as it was looked over and approved by Madam Hooch, there was nothing they could do.

And for the rest of the day, up until six o'clock, several Quidditch players joined the previous group and the payed several scrimmages. Afterwards, they all freshened up to get ready for the Drawing.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

The Goblet, flaming as always, shone dramatically at the center of the Great Hall. Harry and his Durmstrang and Gryffindor friends looked up at it apprehensively. Everyone was slowly trickling into the Hall, but their apprehension was interrupted when a swarm of owls swooped in and dropped their cargo onto the students.

Harry's bundle contained three letters and a bundle of newspaper. Harry set down the the letters and glanced at the newspaper and its main headline.

_**International Quidditch News**_

_Two Young Stars At Puddlemere?_

_Two days ago, the monthly conference was held at Young Trafford Quidditch stadium. Although previous meetings were rather bleak, this one was filled with excitement. Held before the Under 17 English National Team, those attending were Viktor Krum (17), arguably the best Seeker in the world and playing for the Vratsa Vultures, and none other than Harry Potter (14), the Boy-Who-Lived. To answer the questions that undeniably popped into your heads, here are the questions asked during the meeting._

_Q: (Potter): When did you become Chaser? Were you not playing as Seeker at Hogwarts?_

_A: I was, up until this year. Over the summer, I exercised and was able to fill out a bit. When I went back to Hogwarts to try out for the inter-house team, I found that though I was stronger, my movements were slower. I decided to try and play as a Chaser because my father was, and I'm a bit too – erm – large for the Seeker position now._

_Q: (both): Have either of you been approached by other major clubs, or in Potter's case, your first?_

_A: (Krum): I will be moving to Puddlemere United in the summer, as the Vultures feel that with the Transfer money they make with me, they can build a stronger team all around._

_A: (Potter): I, too, have been approached by Puddlemere, and will most likely be moving there this summer. Although I am not 15 yet, I may be an emancipated adult, and I will check during the winter holidays._

_Q (both): What are your religious views?_

_A: (Krum): It is my understanding that most magical peoples are Christian, although they do not practice. I share these views._

_A: (Potter): I've never really given it much though, but what I will say is that though I respect the Judeo-Christian ethic, along with the Eastern pihlosophies and, of course, the teachings of Muhammad, I've found that organized religion has corrupted those beliefs, to justify countless atrocities through history. Were I to title myself to a certain religion, I'd be a hypocrite. Thus, you can call me a nonreligious with morals._

_Further questions can be found on the paper Teen Witches Weekly._

_Mr. Potter also received the U17 ENQT jersey today, and Mr. Krum will receive his in the summer. Afterwards, our crew was able to stay and watch Mr. Potter practice with his first national team, and were amazed at his skill. Here is a short interview on Harry with Joe Jaffney, captain of the team._

"_What do I think of Potter? He's brilliant. He's the youngest in the squad, but probably one of the best; he could easily be picked up by any of the clubs. With even more practice, he could even rival Porskoff." Jaffney stated._

_For our readers that aren't aware, Petrova Porskoff is, by far, the best Chaser to have ever lived, and is credited with inventing the popular Quidditch tactic the Porskoff Ploy. She and Josef Wronski (Seeker), who is credited with using the Wronksi Feint, dominated the league fifty years ago when they were with the Grodzisk Goblins. Porskoff and Wronksi now own one of the largest broom companies in the world._

_For more information on top Quidditch players of the early 1900s, read page 3._

Harry grinned at the article, thankful that they didn't include some of the more personal questions. Glancing over at Angelina's paper, he found that the same article was published in the Daily Prophet, too. However, he spotted something peeking out from under the paper, and he craned his neck.

"Er – Angelina – what's that?" Harry asked. Angelina looked over the Prophet at the poking corner, and she quickly pushed some excess paper over it.

"Nothing." She said quickly. "Nothing at all."

Katie glanced over at it. "Oh, that's Teen Witches Weekly, that is. Don't worry, every girl has it."

And as she said this, Harry shifted in his seat, aware of at least a quarter of the female population looking at him with a hungry eye. They'd probably read the question that explained how Harry would break up with Angelina soon . . .

Harry glared down at his other letters, furiously trying not to blush under the eyes. Picking up the first letter and cutting it open, he read,

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We, at Firebolt CO, offer you a payment 15,000 galleons a game in exchange that you play with our newest models. If you are able to score at least 150 points against the Netherlands, we'll raise the offer to 30,000._

_Please send us a confirmation letter, and we'll reply with the contract. Enclosed now is a packet detailing our products._

_Please answer swiftly,_

_P. Porskoff and J. Wronski, CEOs of the Firebolt Franchise._

Harry grin returned as he looked over the paper once more, and Viktor looked over his shoulder.

"I'd take it, Harry. The CEOs were the best in the world, and their brooms are, too."

"What's their newest model?" Harry asked, setting the letter down and picking up the other.

"It's the _Aquilam_. Far faster than the Firebolt, but roughly the same control." Viktor answered as Harry read the next letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We hope that this letter has made it to you faster than the others. We offer you a payment of 20,000 galleons a match to wear our apparel under you Quidditch robes and on your feet, and we will raise it to 27,500 if you score at least 100 points against Holland this weekend._

_Enclosed is a brochure, detailing our products, and a free beanie._

_Please answer swiftly,_

_R. Plumpton Jr., CEO of SAMA._

Harry glanced into the envelope again and sure enough, there was a neatly folded up white hat, of an even lighter material than his jacket. He studied it before slipping into his pocket.

Cutting open the last letter, he first noticed the crest that locked the flap to the envelope. It was sealed with a small wax picture depicting to wands crossing with a small stalk of what Harry had learned to be barley. Harry took out the parchment and read,

_Dear Harry Potter,_

_On behalf of House Greengrass, I formally invite you to our Yuletide feast on the 10th of December, to discuss present events, among other things. We hope you send us a swift reply._

_- Damien Greengrass, Head of House Greengrass, Ambassador to France, occupant of the Greengrass seat in the Wizengamot, etc., etc._

Harry shivered. This man was obviously Daphne's father, and meant business. Of course he would attend: after all, he was not only the father to his betrothed, but also an esteemed member of society, if all of his titles meant anything.

He tucked all of his letters into an inner pocket of his jacket and focused his attention back up to the Goblet, where Dumbledore now stood, raising his hands to signal silence.

"Dear students, tonight is the night on which we will select who will be participating in the TriWizard tournament!" He announced loudly, and then was met by the cheers of the assembled students.

"I once again warn you all – the Tasks are not simply challenges. They are tests of strengths and weaknesses, and will stretch your resources to the max. And although the prize is bountiful, it is nothing compared to the cost of a human life."

This statement was met with silence, a grim understanding coming over the students. Afte several moments, Dumbledore raises his hands and puts out all the fires and lights in the Hall, leaving a grey light to wash over them all, and the Goblet emitting its blue and green glow over all of the like water.

Dumbledore touched his hands to the Goblet, and after a moment, let go. The flame burst forth, a small piece of parchment shooting out of its depths. Dumbledore (with surprising reflexes and coordination) snapped his hand out and snatched it from the air. He unfolded it and announced, "The Beauxbatons champion . . . is Fleur Delacour!"

The air was filled with the cheers and whoops of the delegation from the French school, and the Veela rose out of her seat and walked up to Dumbledore, her hips swaying. Dumbledore patted her shoulder and gestured towards the Head table, and she went down the stairs behind it.

Dumbledore repeated the process, and when he'd grabbed the paper, he read out, "The Durmstrang champion . . . is Viktor Krum!"

Harry whooped and slapped Viktor's back as the Bulgarian got up from his seat next to him. After a nod to Dumbledore, he was off down the stairs.

Dumbledore once again touched the Goblet, and now Harry felt a grim apprehension. Something was going to happen, but it wouldn't work in Harry's favour.

Dumbledore read off the still smoking paper, "The Hogwarts champion is . . . Angelina Johnson."

She jumped up onto her feet, clapping and cheering as most of Hogwarts clapped and whooped. After bending over to kiss Harry's cheek, she practically skipped over to Dumbledore and then down the stairs.

Dumbledore turned and addressed them all. "Now, the three champions will be rated by the judges, which includes myself, Professor Karkaroff, Professor Maxine, Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch, on a scale of one to ten. There will be 5 Tasks -"

Suddenly, Dumbledore stumbled forward as the Goblet's flames rose three feet higher. Everyone turned, wide-eyed, as the Goblet emitted a faint screech and the fire turned green. A slip of something shot out, but instead of parchment, this what looked like a green leather strip, and Harry could barely see that something was etched onto its softer inside. Dumbledore, stunned, let it fall to the floor as the Hall watched in apprehension.

He recovered quickly and stood and took it, and stared at it for some time. After almost a full minute, Dumbledore said quietly, "Harry Potter."

Harry looked up, stunned, as Dumbledore said louder, "Harry Potter."

Harry looked to his friends for support, but they were just as surprised as he was. Slowly, Harry stood up and walked towards the Goblet, but instead of heading towards the stairs, Harry snatched the slip away from an astounded Dumbledore and studied the material. It was green, hard, and smooth.

It was remarkably similar to a certain Basilisk hide.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

Rage formed in splotches in Harry's mind as he stormed his way into the trphy room. The other three champions looked up from where they were sitting, and Angelina rushed to Harry, and the other three began talking at once.

"What's happening? I heard a scream -"

"What's going on, Harry?"

"What eez happening? Are we needed in ze Great Hall?"

Harry just shrugged helplessly as several adults came in. Dumbledore was first, and the old man caught Harry by the collar and pushed him up against a glass case.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" Dumbledore hissed as Karkaroff, Maxine, McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Bagman, and Barty Crouch came in.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he spat, "Get off me, old man." and he gave his Headmaster a hefty shove away from him. "I was with my friends the whole time we were to enter our names!"

Dumbledore glared back at him. "Did you have an older student put it in for you?"

Harry growled. "Fucking no!"

McGonagal stared at him. "Language, Mr. Potter."

Harry rounded on her. "Shut up! I should be able to swear right now. After all, I'm pretty much set up to die!"

Maxine stepped in. "Vat are you talking about? Of course you entered in, you want the wealth and the glory!"

Harry glared at her. "I already have enough shit going on right now to enter into this stupid competition. I'm already too fucking rich, and my fame is on the rise! Not that I give TWO SHITS ABOUT IT!"

The trophies shook as Harry's magical aura expanded. Dumbledore immediately attempted to reprimand him. "All the evidence points to you, my boy. Who else is to blame? This hide is from the basilisk you killed in second year-"

At this, all the others looked shocked, but Harry was in the zone now. "Old man, you've studied me for more than three years, and you know that I don't want more on my fucking plate."

"Watch your mouth, Potter!" Snape spat. "Ever since you've come to this school, you stick your large, egotistical head in places it doesn't belong! Every class, you make some disruption to seek attention -"

"YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!" Harry roared, stepping forward, causing Dumbledore to back away. "You're too caught up in your stupid grudge against my father! But here's a news flash, you greasy haired git! I'M NOT MY FATHER!"

Dumbledore quietly used his magic to enhance his strength a little and stepped forward to grab Harry, but the boy slapped his arm away.

"Don't fucking touch me, old man! All I wanted this year was a normal school year! Where I could focus on my grades, Quidditch, and maybe a few girls, too! But NO, every year some fucking shit comes up, and I have to deal with it! First, it was a three-headed dog and Professor Quirrel who I had to kill. Then it was a fucking basilisk that I had to stab, and I was already under speculation of being a Dark Wizard! And then there was last year, where I was told that a serial killer was seeking my death, but was actually my godfather who was wrongly accused who YOU sent off to Azkaban without a trial! But one of your biggest fuck-ups was this year. You just happened to forget to mention that there was a marriage contract hanging over my head that YOU were responsible for! But the BIGGEST mistake you've made was forcing me to stay with my relatives for ten years, who BEAT ME ALMOST EVERY DAY! FUCK YOU!" Harry screamed, storming forward and grabbing Dumbledore's neck.

"Listen, Dumb-as-a-bloody-door. If ONE MORE THING happens to me that puts me or my friends in danger, I will be transferring to Durmstrang next year. Have a good fucking night."

Harry wrenched his hands away from Dumbledore's throat, pushed past the others, and when he reached Snape, he shoved him out of the way. With that, he slammed the door behind him, and was gone.

The room was met with silence. After a minute, Moody barked out a harsh laugh, and Maxine looked at Dumbledore. "Eez eet true, Dumbly-dore? What he said?"

Dumbledore covered his face in his hands and breathed out slowly through his nose. "Every word."

* * *

A/N: Expect another update by at least Sunday. See you then!

Reviewer Responses:

WizardShinobi: Thanks, but no thanks. I'd be crap at writing slash since I have no idea what it would be like. Also, this WON'T be a harem.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Greengrass Contract  
by UWontKnoXD**

A/N: Yeah, this chapter doesn't span a whole lot of time, but the NEXT one will, hopefully. If you're bored, check out my Hunger Games story that I started!

ALSO: There won't be any reviewer responses this week, I again have struggled with finding time fore looking at them. Sorry!

WARNING: In this chapter, there is a detailed account of some gruesome child abuse in the middle of the chapter. You will be warned, and you can skip ahead if you'd like.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Fear and Weakness**  
**September 4th - 5th, 1994**

* * *

Although the trip to his common room was uneventful (all other students had retired to their dorms), Harry didn't enjoy it in the least. After he'd stormed out, he'd seen a blue beetle on the ground and had enjoyed his time taking a few stomps at it, but missed every time until it flew away.

Still smoldering, he had stormed out of the Great Hall and properly slammed through the doors. By this time, Harry was seriously considering bumping Dumbledore nearer to the top of his (what he now called) his nemesis list.

These thoughts kept him from realizing that he had reached the Fat Lady. Look up, he scowled at her, and she looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and a strange, almost sympathetic expression on her face. "I'd be careful, Potter. You're friends aren't too happy that you were picked, too."

Harry scowled up at her, his eyebrows lowering and coming together. "If they aren't happy, then they aren't my friends."

The Fat Lady looked at him for a moment, nodded, and opened up. The quiet murmuring on the inside ceased, and there was silence as Harry stepped in, and was immediately confronted by Angelina, who hugged him, talking fiercely and loud enough for everyone (it looked like the whole house was out of bed and in the common room) to hear.

"Harry I know you didn't put your name in -" but she was interrupted by Ron.

"Come off it! Of _course _he put his name in! He's been an arse all year!" To that, people had begun to nod, but stopped when Ron added the last phrase. 'Harry hasn't been a bad bloke, but who else would have put in his name?' were the thoughts of all others.

Harry glared at him before hugging Angelina. "Listen, Ann. I didn't put my name in, but I'm forced to compete. I read about the Goblet, and it doesn't matter if they're the ones who put their name in or not. Normally, an underage name wouldn't be picked, but the cup was most likely rigged -"

"Yeah. By you!." Ron scowled, reaching the front and nearing Angelina. "If you didn't do it, swear on your magic!"

There were intakes of breaths around the room, and Hermione hissed, "Ron! How could you ask that?"

Harry nudged Angelina over so that he could confront Ron, and he said, "I shouldn't have to. This may not be Hufflepuff, but I'd expect you would all be at least a little loyal, and maybe grateful. You all know that I've never bragged, but now I might as well. If it wasn't for me, you'd be dead. You'd be dead. You'd be dead."

And so Harry went on, pointing out all of the Muggleborns, and at the end, Ginny. "But, of course, you've all forgotten that none of you have thanked me or even somehow paid me back. Why? Because I've never asked for it."

Getting nose to nose with Ron, and Harry growled, "I shouldn't HAVE to swear on my magic. Even if I did, I could still lose my magic, because what if someone had Imperiused me into somehow hoodwinking the cup and entering my name?"

Ron snorted. "We just studied the Unforgivables in class, Potter. You'd remember if you were Imperiused."

Harry continued, "Not if I'd been obliviated. Actually, that's another goddamn stupid thing about this school." Gesturing to all the girls, he bellowed, "Every single one of the female students here is in danger of being molested or raped. After all, if you're any good at Obliviating, you can even insert false memories into their heads."

Harry whipped his head back at Ron. "But we're going off subject. If, somehow, you can snatch some Veritaserum from Snape's private stores, you can use it on me, if you wish."

Ron's eye sparkled with hate and an idea. "I think that's a good idea."

Harry stared him down for a moment more before turning and taking Angelina's hands. "Listen, Ann. I really like you, and I'm very proud of your beginning Quidditch career. But we're going to have to go separate ways."

Angelina smiled sadly and a tear formed in her eyes, and she cupped Harry's face. Harry sighed slowly through his nose. "I'm really sorry, but if we're together, then you'll become a target to other people who don't like how my name somehow came out. That, and there's also my little 'magic paper' problem, and I need to start working at it. It's time that I really faced it. But I hope we can stay friends after this."

Angelina laughed slightly at his code name for the Contract, but she nodded slowly. Bringing his head forward, they shared one last kiss before Harry pushed through the crowd and up to the boy's dormitories.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

Friday was easily one the worst school days of Harry's life. Without the company of a girlfriend, Harry slowly lapsed into a sad state, although kept his cool. He was still great friends with Viktor, Neville, Luna, Angelina, Katie and Pad ma, because they decided that he hadn't put his name in, as they were the ones running with him when he had supposedly entered himself.

However, they were missing Hermione and Padma's twin. For reasons unknown, the former gave up sitting near Harry and instead began to sit with Ron, which caused Harry to feel a little twinge in his heart. After all, Hermione was one of his first friends, and his first female one at that. She would be missed.

On the other hand, Parvarti decided to break ties with Harry because her best friend, Lavender Brown, had a huge crush on a certain git redhead. Thus, Parvarti decided to abandon her sister and running group to go off giggling with her friend again. This had not affected Harry much, but he was slightly saddened at the blow to his little group.

The classes had actually endured much change. Although it was strange, Professor McGonagall would often pursue her lips whenever Harry managed to cast the first (very good) spell. Harry suspected that she wanted to give him house points and compliment him, but decided against it at the last moment.

During these classes, Harry sat with Neville, and he discovered that although he was shy, Neville was pretty clever and was absolutely stunning at Herbology. When Neville failed to cast a Transfiguration spell, Harry immediately advised him to get a new wand.

"But – this was my father's, and my grandmother -" He had stammered.

"Forget it, Nev. You can use it as a secondary wand, and if you tell your grandmother that you could be getting EE's in every class if you got a new one, she'd be okay with it. In fact, over the Christmas break, I'm going to the Alley, and I'd be happy if you could come with."

Neville had immediately agreed, and decided that yes, his wand did seem to be holding him back.

Charms went much the same way, but Potions was much more . . . unexpected.

Stepping into the class (first one in), Harry noticed that Snape was eyeing him with a carefully hidden, barely noticeable confused expression. Harry had looked up at him into his dark eyes and held the contact for several seconds, and immediately felt – something – against his mind. Realizing it was him, Harry pushed forward his memories of running, and then going into the Great Hall and being genuinely surprised at his name popping out of the Goblet. In several seconds, Snape had stored the information in his mind, and then nodded to the young student once.

Harry quickly sat down in the row to the far right, where he was isolated from where the Gryffindors would undoubtedly be sitting. Neville quickly followed, and soon the whole class had filed in.

"Today, we will be brewing Girding Potion. Who knows what it can be used for?"

Glancing around the room, Snape found that no one had raised their hand except a bushy-haired Gryffindor. He was then shocked to find that his nemesis's son was raising his hand calmly, and Snape studied him. There was a determined expression on the boy's face, as if he was saying, 'Come on, then. I'll show you what I've got now.'

Snape calmly thought before he spoke and said, "Mr. Potter?", being careful to not use just the boy's last name.

As the girl flashed an angry glare in the brat's direction, the boy said calmly, "Girding Potion can be used to increase one's endurance for several weeks at a time. However, the maximum dosage is two vials, for if you drink any more you can either enter into a coma or be particularly rowdy for almost a month."

Snape waited for a minute, and said quietly, "Acceptable definition. Five points to Gryffindor."

As everyone blinked in shock, Snape continued with the instructions, and then wrote the instructions on the board. After telling everyone to get to work, Snape went back into his chair and gazed off into the distance, his eyes glassing over slightly. Harry decided that he was reviewing the memories given to him.

Harry and Neville went through the steps, and the former found that Neville was quite decent at Potions when he didn't have a hook-nosed professor bending over him. They made little mistakes, and by the end, when it was supposed to turn a bright green, the boys found that their potion was, indeed, a slightly dark, but nevertheless close, green.

Snape abruptly got up and went through their Potions as the students waited nervously. Saving Neville and Harry for last, Snape went walked through the aisles, but was considerably quieter. There was only the occasional, "You ignorant boy. Never forget to add the doxy eggs." or something of the kind. When he reached Hermione's potion, Snape found a slightly more green turquoise mix. He only said, "Barely acceptable. I believe the Weasley heated up your potion only around five minutes too long while you had your nose stuck in a book. Five points from Gryffindor for not helping your classmate." To that, Hermione scowled at Ron, who shrugged, as if to say, 'He said it was your fault, so it's your fault.'

Upon reaching Harry, Snape said absolutely nothing. Instead, he just said quietly, "You stopped heating it around thirty seconds before the precise time. Nevertheless, this potion would grant the user around 5 days of extra endurance. I noticed you didn't blow anything up this time, Longbottom. Five points to Gryffindor."

After he had bottled each of the potions for further testing, he said, "You are all dismissed except for Mr. Potter. Please stay behind a moment."

Dumbfounded, Harry stayed whilst the other went on to Herbology. Snape gestured him towards his desk before saying, "I see that you didn't put your name in, Mr. Potter. But do you think that you could manage a favor from me?"

Harry blinked. "A favor?"

Snape rolled his eyes for a second. "Why do the young people of these generations invariably answer a question with a question?"

Harry had grinned a little and said, "I expect that it's because we're young and ignorant brats."

Snape's lip curled slightly, forming a cross between a smile and a grimace. "Indeed. I'd like you to gift me your memories of some of your previous Potions classes. I've realized -"

Snape grimaced a bit, and then continued, "- I've realized that I've been a bit harsh on you lot."

Harry looked him in the eye and said, "Sure, Professor, I'll do it. But I'm honestly glad that you've seen that I'm not my father." Leaning forward, Harry said quietly, "In fact, I think you also see that my mother's qualities are coming out as well."

Snape stared into the boy's green eyes and sighed. "I have seen. Here." He said, handing Harry a small bowl. "This is a pocket pensieve. Just think up a memory, tap your head, and then put it into the bowl. You can give it to me on Monday."

Harry nodded, taking the bowl and pocketing it. "Thank you, sir."

Snape nodded and waved him away. But before he left, Harry added, "Professor? I'd like to give you a warning. I think that Ronald is planning on stealing some things from your potions stores in the near future."

Snape's lip curled again. "Thank you for the warning, Mr. Potter. I'll be sure to add a few special wards to it tonight."

But before Harry had reached the door, he heard Snape call something out behind him.

"Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned around, and Snape said emotionlessly, "You have your mother's eyes, but you must know that the same things are not stored behind them."

Harry blinked and left, promising to remember that so he could think it over later.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

However, instead of heading to Defense, Harry went the opposite direction, back into the castle, towards his Head of House's classroom. Upon reaching it, Harry knocked quietly to be answered by a voice saying, "Come in."

Stepping in, Harry found a large group of first years all just beginning to sit down. Ahead was a grey and tabby cat, sitting at her desk. Harry grinned and walked up to it, and said loudly, "Professor, can I speak to you for a moment?"

For a few seconds, the first years just stared at the Boy-Who-Lived thinking, 'Is he crazy?', until the cat pounced off the desk and morphed into the Gryffindor Head of House, who mock-glared at Harry.

"You ruined the surprise, Mr. Potter. What is it that you need? You're late for your next class." She asked, and Harry answered, "I'd like to talk with you about a class change."

After a pause, McGonagall nodded and said, "Well, first I'll give these first years a proper introduction. You can wait at my desk, yes?"

Harry nodded and did so, and McGonagall proceeded to instruct the first years on turing a matchstick into a needle. When she'd finished, she went and sat across Harry and asked, "A class change, you say? Which one, and why?"

Harry leaned forward and stated, "I'd like to drop Divination, Professor. I've found out that I've only been taking it for an easy 'O', and that the teacher is bonkers, and the class is rubbish."

McGonagall fought to keep a smirk off her face. "Many here share your sentiment, Mr. Potter. What would you like to replace it with?"

"Erm – Ancient Runes, ma'am. In the future, I'd like to become a professional Quidditch player for around half a decade, and then become either an Auror or something else like that, and then maybe become a Professor here. I've heard that there's a special branch of Aurorship that requires Ancient Runes."

McGonagall smiled at him. The young Potter's future indeed looked promising. "You are half-correct. There are several levels of Aurorship, starting with Trainee, then Novice, then Auror, then Solo Auror, and lastly Veteran. The Solo Auror can only be achieved if you get at least an 'EE' in Ancient Runes."

Harry nodded in understanding. "Okay. Can I switch?"

McGonagall nodded. "Absolutely. Even though you're a year behind, with your newfound determination in classes, I think you'll be able to get up onto their level. I'll give you your new schedule next week. Also, here's a pass for your next class, to get out of punishment."

Harry nodded his thanks, took the slip of paper being handed to him, and quickly left as the first years hopelessly stabbed their wands toward their matchsticks, muttering the incantation.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

The last class of the morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class that Harry had mix feelings about. The first class had been somewhat of a strange experience, what with Harry losing his temper. Harry tilted his head as he walked into to the class under the watchful eye of Moody. He'd have to make another list, along with his nemesis list. Something that would help him organize his biggest fears or weaknesses. For some reason, those two seemed to collide more often than not.

Harry plopped down alongside Neville as several Slytherins trickled in, one of which was to be a big part in Harry's life. As he caught the girl's eyes, they narrowed and looked away quickly. Harry blinked. They had been on talking turns earlier in the week; what had changed?

Moody began his teaching as the class settled in. "Alright, class, I think we've covered enough Unforgivables in our last class than we'll need all year."

He laughed quietly at the memory as a few heads turned to Harry, reminded of what had happened.

"Today, we'll be learning about boggarts. Yes, Granger?"

Hermione whipped her hand from the air and said tartly, "Professor, we learned about boggarts last y -"

"I am aware of that, Granger." Moody said. "We're reviewing them because I'd like to know what some of your biggest fears are." He cast his eyes around the room, and his magical one rested on Harry longer than he'd liked. "It'll be necessary with my . . . style of teaching."

Harry shivered slightly. What was his biggest fear? Was it still dementors? No; at the thought of the black-cloaked beasts, he no longer cringed. He had a defense against the monsters, and so his fear had dissipated.

As he pondered, Moody was saying, "Get up and clear the desks to the side of the room – yes, like that. Now, form a line. No pushing! I know how eager all of you are to face your deepest and darkest phobia ."

Moody kicked forward a large wooden chest with his metal foot that he favored. "Alright, who's first? Granger! You ready?"

"I think – EEK!" Hermione squealed as the form of Dumbledore stepped out of the chest, looking forlorn. He said in a low voice, "I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, but I'm afraid that we'll have to expel you, because you are not as smart as Mr. Potter here."

She shrieked, and tears began falling from her face, but she managed to squeal, "_Riddikulus!_" before sprinting into the back of the classroom. Dumbledore was now in a woman's dress, stumbling on high heels. 'So Granger was afraid of being bested by others?' Harry mused. 'Maybe that's why she's not a very good friend . . .'

Draco Malfoy sauntered up next, and Dumbledore's beard extended and created a cocoon; and out of the cocoon strolled a pale, red-eyed, snake faced Voldemort. As Malfoy's eyes widened, the image sneered and pulled out his wand, but Malfoy was able to squeak the incantation, causing the Voldemort to disappear in a puff of pink perfume.

Several more students walked up and dispelled their fear. With every step Harry took forward, the more anxious he got. What exactly would pop up?

Soon, he was in front of what was a massive snake with lipstick on. For a terrifying second, the lipstick disappeared and the snake stood frozen, seemingly contemplating Harry, who was drawing his wand. Suddenly, the snake reared back, and began swirling.

**-(reader discretion is advised)-**

A blanket of fog hung itself around the whole room, and in front of Harry (for the whole class to watch) seemed to be something like a television screen. From that television screen appeared a little boy with messy black hair and green eyes, who was whimpering and holding his left arm that was bent almost in its opposite direction, in complete darkness. Several students retched behind him, and Harry was frozen in place. Not because he was scared, but because he remembered it. Suddenly, the television was filled with light, and a hand grabbed the boy's arm and wrenched him out of the dark space. Harry found himself watching his younger self in the hallway of Privet Drive, his Uncle Vernon over him.

"Think you could snitch to your teachers, boy?" Vernon spat. Harry's breath hitched in his throat, and behind him, the students were looking on in terror and disgust. "They don't give a damn, and NEITHER DO I!"

Younger Harry moaned and grabbed his arms as his Uncle tightened his grip on it. "Boy, no one will EVER KNOW!"

Younger Harry began screaming as the fat man brought his dominant hand down on his head, over and over again, until his lip was split and his nose was bleeding profusely. One of his ribs were broken from a carefully aimed kick, and several of his fingers were broken from failed attempts to shield himself. Vernon wrenched the boy's injured arm one more time and threw him into what Older Harry identified to be his cupboard.

The man's final word was, "Your parents abandoned you for us to take care of. They'd be ashamed of what a weakling you turned out to be."

**-(you may return to your reading now)-**

The door slammed shut, but the screen was still filled with a seething Vernon, his knuckled coated with blood. Suddenly, Vernon's eyes snapped forward to Harry and the class. The man grabbed the sides of the television, wrenched it back, and climbed out. Soon, a life-sized Dursley was breathing heavily in front of Harry's face. Harry couldn't breath, and fumbled for his wand, although he knew the boggart couldn't touch him.

He was wrong.

Suddenly, Vernon reached out and grabbed Harry's throat, lifting him up off the ground. Harry, caught by surprise, gasped and reached up with both his hands, his wand falling helplessly to the floor. The thick hand tightened itself, and Harry saw spots.

Then, Vernon was blown back with a, "_Stupefy!_" from a woman in the crowd. Harry crumpled to the floor, still scrabbling at his neck and dry heaving. Said woman marched past Harry and pointed her wand at the man, who was eyeing Harry greedily. Upon noticing the woman, Vernon scrambled for the box, but the woman ordered, "_Riddikulus!_" and the boggart was thrown back again, head over heels, morphing into a swirl of different things. The woman swept her wand towards the chest, and the boggart was thrown into it, the lid snapping tight upon it.

The woman (identified to be Professor McGonagall) immediately swept towards a still heaving Harry. Moody limped after her.

"What is the meaning of this?" McGonagall almost screeched. Moody's face was that of helpless and confused.

"I don't know, Minerva!" Moody said quickly. "The boggart shouldn't have been able to touch Potter!"

McGonagall tapped Harry's throat and he was suddenly able to breathe, his throat opening up again. Harry took in several rattling gasps as he regained the air he'd lost from his lungs.

"What was _that_?" McGonagall hissed. Hermione was the one that spoke up.

"That man was his Uncle, I saw him at King's Cross -"

"Not him." McGonagall said. "What were the images before him? Were they just thoughts, or did they actually happen?"

Harry said nothing, but he did sit up, rubbing a spot on his lower left bicep. McGonagall waited for an answer, but Harry said nothing. Instead, the boy stood up and limped back through the crowd of terrified students, side-stepping puddles of vomit. He rasped, "I'm done."

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

For the next class, Harry was not present, and no one could locate him. Word didn't spread around in the wildfire that many expected; it stayed within the fourth year level, but by the next day almost the whole school would hear of it.

Neville noticed Harry's absence first and, after excusing himself from Herbology by pretending the need for the loo, he went and found Viktor out on the Quidditch Pitch. Neville waved him down and informed him of what happened, and the professional Quidditch player immediately set out looking for his friend.

It took them nearly half an hour, but the two did manage to locate him near the lake, next to a large oak tree. However, Harry was sitting up against the tree or anything of the like; he was smashing his fists against it with all the strength he could muster.

Viktor quickly ran forward and restrained Harry's arms, backing him away from the tree, who had a small spot on its trunk where there was no bark. Harry's knuckles were skinned and dripping with blood, and the fresh yellow wood on the tree was smudged with red.

"Harry! Stop! It's okay!" Viktor assured him. Harry still didn't let up, and was hissing with a snake-like lisp, "Ssstupid relatives! Fuck Dumbledore – fuck this bloody ssschool – damn Moody to hell!"

Viktor held on until Harry stopped thrashing, and the greenish light left his eyes, and the ugly snarl set on the boy's face disappeared. Breathing heavily, Harry pushed Viktor away and sat down, hard.

"Harry. What are you doing?" Viktor asked seriously, plopping down next to him. Neville did the same.

"I'm not talking about what happened in DADA, if that's what you're here for." Harry hissed, but then calmed down quickly as Viktor assured him that he wasn't.

Harry heaved out a long breath. "After the thing in Defense, I was angry – so angry. I figured that I have to let it out on something, or it'll just get bottled up inside me. That's two of my weaknesses that I've discovered. Not letting out my emotions and letting my anger make me do things I shouldn't. I figured that if I let my anger out on something but also get myself to regret it later, then I'll stop doing it."

Viktor looked down at Harry's skinned hands. "Should I . . .?"

Harry shook his sweaty hair quickly. "No, no. Don't heal them. I need to learn to regret letting my anger out."

Neville shook his head. "That's a bad idea, Harry. You could get an infection -"

"I'll heal them tomorrow morning, alright?" Harry said shortly. Having freshly punched a tree, he didn't have any anger left to get mad at his two friends.

"Let's head to the castle, alright? Hopefully, I'll have a few hours before the whole bloody school knows that I'm a pussy."

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

The rest of the day went smoothly, with no one confronting Harry beyond a confused or a scared look even a glimmer of sympathy. When Harry was in the halls, the fourth years before him parted ways, still trying to decipher what the fiasco in DADA had meant. While he did this, Harry also tried to avoid all teacher he could, especially McGonagall. He wasn't ready to be interrogated.

Throughout the classes, the Weasley twins let Harry know that they were on his side, saying, "That's not your style, mate." However, Hermione never once went to him; in fact, she seemed trying hard not to glance his way.

When it came time for supper, Harry (being there before his friends), went and approached a certain beautiful Veela, who had begun to eat her lunch at the Ravenclaw table.

Harry gently bent forward next to her. "I'm not taking anyone's spot, am I?"

Fleur turned and looked him up and down, assessing him. When she came up to his eyes, Harry locked their gazes together, proving without a doubt that he was, indeed, immune to her pull. She then shook her head, her soft hair waving.

"Non. Eet iz not taken." Her tone was of indifference. She was obviously keeping out emotions from her voice until she learned more about the spontaneous fourth champion.

Harry nodded gratefully and sat down, picking out all of the greens and a few meats from the table's selection. Fleur watched him carefully.

"Why are you not seeting wiz your friends?" She asked first. Harry shook his head after looking at the occupants of said table. There was Ronald, Hermione, Lavender Brown, and several first and seventh years.

"I have no friends over there." Harry said. Fleur seemed a little shocked, and then her eyebrows knit.

"You are deeferent from ze uzzers." She said, sounding almost confused. Harry rose an eyebrow.

"How so?" Harry asked, grabbing his fork and spearing a few leaves. She waited before saying, "You aren't affected by my allure."

Harry shrugged. "It's okay, I have no idea why either. Can you think up anything else?"

Fleur looked down at her companion's plate. "You haave nice manners. Some of ze uzzers, like zat red haired one by you table, just grab and stuff in their mouths. Eet would never be accepted at Beauxbatons!"

Harry nodded slowly. "Anything else?"

Fleur leaned in towards him. "There are some rumors goeeng around. Sometheeng een one of your classes." After a pause, she asked, "Eez eet true, what you said in ze Trophy Room?"

Harry froze mid-chew, and slowly turned to face her. Once he'd swallowed, he stared into her eyes for a long moment. Fleur blinked rapidly.

"What eez eet you are doing?" She asked. Harry shrugged and turned back to his plate. By this time, a few other Ravenclaws were beginning to take their seats, although they turned suspicious eyes towards the Gryffindor.

"Evaluating whether or not I should trust you." Harry said, taking another bite. At this time, Viktor and Angelina and Katie had stepped into the Hall, and were looking around, searching for their black-haired friend. Once they'd spotted him at the Ravenclaw's table, they'd looked at each other, shrugged, and begun to make their way over.

Fleur blinked. This boy was continuing to surprise her. "And did I pass ze test?"

Harry nodded mutely as his friends sat next to him. "Yes, but I'm the one that's not ready."

"Harry. Are you okay?" Viktor asked seriously as he plopped down next to him. Harry turned and rose and one of his eyebrows raised.

"Why would I not be?" Harry asked, taking a long look at Angelina. She blushed as Viktor said, "Your girlfriend told Katie about what happened in the Trophy Room, and I was there, after all. And there was the Defense . . . thing."

Harry sighed. "Unfortunately, Angelina and I are no longer a set any more, for reasons I'd rather not repeat. The first time I said it, I was very sad and angry, and I'd not like to relive those feelings again. And the other thing? I've started to forget it."

Fleur looked at Angelina, who nodded sadly, and she was surprised. It was not often that a recently broken couple would be able to sit next to one another and exchange words.

Fleur blinked and finally noticed Harry's knuckles. "'Arry? What eez wrong wiz your 'ands?"

Harry flexed his fingers. "Nothing of your concern, yet."

After a moment of silence as the three newcomers got their food, Fleur asked, "I do not believe we were properly introduced. I am Fleur Delacour."

She shook each of their hands and sat back down, another silence pouring over them.

"Listen, Harry." Katie said suddenly and fiercely. "The five of us have heard what was said in the Trophy Room, and both Krum and Fleur are wondering if it's true. Hell, I'm wondering if it's true. I mean, not much information was really given on any of the subjects . . ."

Harry sighed through his nose and put down his fork. Looking out at them all, he said, "Alright. All of it was true, down to the last drop."

Viktor sighed and clapped Harry one the shoulder softly. "I am sorry, my friend. Marriage contracts are by far the worst things someone can deal with."

Harry shrugged his hand off. "Well, at least it isn't with someone I hate."

Before Viktor could open his mouth for the question, Harry had said shortly, "No, I'm not telling you who it is yet."

Viktor sighed and knit his eyebrows together. "Can I start guessing?"

Harry snorted in amusement, finished his dinner, and left. Where to, his friends could only guess.

Fleur glanced at the other non-Ravenclaws at her table. "Eez he seengle?"

Said non-Ravenclaws stared at the Frenchwoman in disbelief. "I'm kidding. I'm guessing zat he eez going to spend more time wiz his betrothed."

The others looked at each other, nodded in agreement, and turned their attention back to their respective plates.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

Harry quickly reached his common room to grab a necessity: the Marauder's Map. After setting his trunk up on his bed (thankful that there were no others around) he opened it and took out the piece of parchment.

Once he'd grabbed it, he murmured to it, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The map burst alive with ink, mapping out the castle and the many names within it. Harry quickly located his target and set out for the lake.

Unfortunately, a peaceful walk to find his betrothed was not in the near future. When he passed the library, a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor burst out and cornered him.

"Harry, I can't believe that you broke up with Angelina! And what was that all about in DADA? You should have told us!" She cried. Her arms were full of books, and Harry quickly grew angry.

"I think you mean 'Potter'. After all, you seem to have gravitated immediately towards the red git." Harry growled. Hermione's eyebrows knit together into a glare.

"Whatever! I can't believe you broke up with her just because of the Tournament! You broke her heart! What was the thing in DADA?" She sniffed, and Harry stepped forward.

"Listen right now, Hermione. Both Angelina and I agree that what we did was for the best."

"For the best of both of you, or just you?" Hermione sneered. Harry got in her face.

"Shut up! It's not just about me and Ann! There is one more person you've left out of your important equation!"

Hermione immediately perked, her thirst for knowledge now strong. "Who? What did you mean about your paper problem?"

Harry hissed back fiercely, "It's none of your business! Hermione, it's not just Ron I've been tolerating for the last three years. You have been told this many times, but you _are_ a know-it-all. In good ways and bad. You've helped me out of some tight spots, and I appreciate that. But you DON'T realize that you were not the leader! You constantly criticized me and my schoolwork, when you should've just accepted that that's the way I was! Sure, I probably deserved, but you must open your eyes and see that the git and I were doing YOU a favor, too. If it weren't for us, you'd just be the know-it-all, who sat in the back of the room, raising her hand at every question. So no, I won't tell you what it is, because it's none of your concern. Now you can go back to Ronald, who only has you as a friend for your notes and homework answers."

Hermione let out a strangled gasp and her eyes filled with tears, and she quickly scattered away. Harry mentally slapped himself. What was wrong with him? Hadn't he let out enough anger already?

Her breathed out slowly, turning away. He'd have to do some serious research on how to control his emotions and, more importantly, his mind.

* * *

A/N: What do you think that last sentence hints at? Guess!

ALSO:Many of you were asking for it, so I delivered: There is no more Hangelina, and some Haphne will begin!

ALSO: Honestly, when I wrote the child abuse scene, I was cringing the whole time. I can't bear the thought of children going throughout such children. It makes me want to go throw up in the corner of my desk.

Well, see you by at least next Sunday!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: GUYS, DO YOU KNOW HOW EXCITED I AM? Wha - you don't?Let me explain:

This chapter is our tenth chapter, ad once it's been uploaded this story will have finally crossed 50,000 words, AND it'll push the story to over 1,000 follows! THIS IS AMAZING!

When this story does get over 1,000 follows after this chapter, then THANK YOU! It's amazing that so many people are willing to spend five minutes of their time to read each chapter of this story. You guys make my heart swell with a larger ego an higher self esteem!

Disclaimer: Look at some of the previous chapter I just want to get to the chapter NOW!

WAIT! Before you go, I'll apologize for such a long wait and a short chapter. I've been pushed for time between indoor soccer, track, school, and a girl that I shamelessly and ceaselessly flirt with. Sorry!

* * *

**Chapter 10: Professional Quidditch**

**September 6th-7th, 1994**

* * *

The next morning, Harry got ready for his run, went downstairs and found that all original members of the group were attending, even Parvarti.

The actual run went without much interruptions until near the end. They'd just finished their run and were heading towards the castle when they were met by McGonagall, who was coming from Hagrid's cabin.

The group all greeted her, and she raised an eyebrow at them. "May I ask as to what you six are doing?"

Harry responded, "We've just finished our morning run, ma'am. We've been doing this to keep in shape."

McGonagall nodded slowly. "Can you come and see me in my office after breakfast, Mr. Potter? I;d like to speak to you about making your morning runs into a formal club."

Harry quickly accepted, and they group continued on to the Great Hall. There, Parvarti branched off from them to join Lavender, and Harry went to Fleur again.

"Hello again, Ms. Delacour." Harry said. "Can I sit here?"

Fleur nodded absently; she was busy studying the group of five's attire. "Vat eez eet you are wearing?"

Harry glanced down at his running clothes as he and his friends sat down. "Er – my friends and I go running every morning, to keep in shape. This is what we wear."

Fleur grinned. "I am an athlete, back at Beauxbatons. We 'ave track and field. May I join you tomorrow?"

Harry frowned. "Unfortunately, I will not be here tomorrow, as I'll be at a Quidditch game."

Fleur blinked. "Which one are you going to watch?"

Harry grinned. "Who said anything about watching the game?"

Fleur frowned, and then grinned. "Ah! Good luck! Eez eet your first professional game?"

Harry nodded. "Also, regarding your wanting to join our runs, McGonagall is going to speak with me about making it into a club. I'll get back to you later in the day, maybe at lunch, okay?"

Fleur agreed, and the group spent the rest of their breakfast chatting about nothing.

When he'd finished, Harry went and changed into his jeans and t-shirt (it was Saturday, so no classes were in session), and proceeded to go to McGonagall's office.

When he'd reached the door, he knocked. A voice came from the inside: "Come in, Mr. Potter."

Harry pushed open the door to find several first years huddled around a desk, getting extra help on changing matchsticks into needles. They were in deep concentration, and Harry grinned at their enthusiasm.

McGonagall got his attention from her desk. "Mr. Potter, please, sit."

Harry did, and she began. "If you want, I can ask Madam Hootch to become the patron for a running club that you would run. Do you have any idea of the schedule?"

Harry thought about it. "I'd try and hold it every day, and if I can't, Viktor can take my place. Once he goes back to Durmstrang, Angelina and Katie can run it."

McGonagall nodded, scribbling things down on a parchment. "Yes . . . yes . . . alright! I'll get back to you for the arrangements before lunch today. I'll see you in the Great Hall."

Harry grinned and nodded. "Thanks, Professor."

The rest of the day went by in a flash. McGonagall got back to him and told him that Madam Hootch had accepted, and that the club would start tomorrow, and that they should start spreading the word and hanging up posters. So that's what they did; they went about the school, putting sticking charms on the backs of copied pieces of parchments that explained what the club was. The parchments also updated themselves, so they would change and say when the next practice was, or if anyone couldn't go or not. They only took a break from the poster hanging to eat lunch, where Fleur decided to join them.

After dinner, Harry was just getting up to leave dinner when a large tawny owl flew in from the windows, and dropped a letter on his lap. Harry cut it open and looked through it.

_Dear Harry,_

_The international match vs the Netherlands will start at 1:30 PM tomorrow and go on for an estimated time of around 3 hours. Enclosed within this letter is a feather. That is the portkey to get to the training stadium, which is where the International Quidditch Board have decided tha game to be held. We will expect you to be at the fields by 9:30 to get warmed up with the squad._

_Please be punctual,_

_Joe Jaffney, Captain of the U17 ENQT squad_

Harry felt a pit of excitement and nervousness build up in his chest as he passed the letter to Viktor, who passed it to Angelina, and so on and so on.

Harry groaned. "Ugh. I'm so nervous."

"Don't be, Harry!" Katie exclaimed. "You're brilliant! While you're out there, we'll see of we can get ahold of a radio from Professor McGonagall so we can listen.

Harry shifted nervously before heading out of the Great Hall and up to his dormitory, eager to get a good night's sleep, but finding it hard from the adrenaline already pumping through his veins.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

Harry was at the fields almost half an hour before he was due. He ended up at the same spot where he had first keyed, but instead of the brilliant sunshine at his last visit, it was a dreadfully gloomy day, although no rain was falling. However, Harry loved it; the coolness of the air made his bones shake with excitement.

He made his way towards the men's locker rooms, and found that no one was there yet. So he changed into his training robes, grabbed one of the Firebolts from a rack, and zoomed out to get a few warm up shots in.

After fifteen minutes, several players began snapping into appearance below him. Harry continued to practice, and after another fifteen minutes, a few other Chasers (one of which was Vang) went up and played a mock-match with him. Vang was grinning the whole time – apparently, she had taken a liking to him, in a mutual respect kind of way.

After five more minutes, Joe called them all down. They all flew down, and Joe told them to shut up.

"Alright, guys, first international match of the season! The problem is, it's undoubtedly going to rain today -" (he glared up at the sky) "- but other than that, there haven't been any problems. Now, here's the squad lineup -"

He handed out a piece of parchment to everyone, and Harry skimmed it over.

**U17 ENQT Squad Line-Up**

1st Team

Chasers: T. Karney | J. Jaffney | E. Vang

Beaters: P. Redmund | H. Betterson

Keeper: K. Rodney

Seeker: F. Paige

Substitutes

Chasers: H. J. Potter | L. Kaine

Beaters: J. Redmund | E. Yankov

Keepers: J. Ollivander | O. Walson

Seekers: W. Malgen | I. Bellon

Harry finished it, and Joe called (after grabbing their parchents), "Alright, you lot, in the air, we'll be doing the same thing we did earlier this week! Beaters, on the sides! Potter, stay here for a second."

Everyone mounted up and flew off, but Joe and Harry stayed behind. Joe took the parchment from Harry's hand and disposed of it, and then said, "Potter, if one of us Chasers get hurt in the game, you'll be coming on right away, understand?"

Harry nodded and Joe grinned. "Then let's get to it."

That day's practice was not nearly as tiring as the one earlier in the week. Obviously, Joe held back on making them work, just enough so that they were warmed up, but not too much so that they were drop-dead tired.

After almost two hours, Joe called them back and ordered them all into the side of the stadium, where they all ate an extremely light lunch, consisting of light sandwhiches. Joe also ordered them all to eat up, as they'd need their strength.

When they'd finished, Joe checked his watch (it was 12:45) and they went for a few laps around the field, and that's when the crowd began to trickle in. For the next fifteen minutes, almost 50,000 witches and wizards found their seats, taking bets and getting their Omnioculars ready. With every person, Harry's nervousness grew.

When the clock struck 1:15, Joe ordered them all into the side of the stadium. They ended up in a large chamber, split into two halves by a line. On the other side, Harry got the first glimpse of the Netherland squad. They were all obviously sixteen year olds, and very tall. Only one of them was a girl, and she had thick eyebrows that seemed to be set low one her face. In his own line, Harry was last.

They waited in there for fifteen minutes, until Harry heard a roar from outside the large double doors that led into the stadium. Harry shivered with nerves, and then he heard an announcer say in a muffled voice, "Welcome, English and Dutch witches and wizards, to the first under 17 international Quidditch game of the season!"

Right after, another man spoke in Dutch, evidently saying the same thing, like a strange distorted echo. Roars were met with the announcer's statement, and then he heard, "Please welcome the Dutch National team!"

The right side of the double doors burst open, and the opposing team mounted their brooms and flew out in a straight line, to the cheers of the crowd. The announcer called out all of their names with excitement laced in his voice.

After the crowd had calmed down, the announcer said, "And now please welcome the English National Squad – Paige! Rodney! Betterson! Redmund! Vang! Jaffney! Karney! Bellon! Malgen! Walson! Ollivander! Yankov! Redmund! Kaine! And, fourteen-year old, HARRY POTTER!"

As Harry flew out, the crowd cheered even louder. As soon as he passed the doors, rain streamed into his face, and he opened his mouth in a loud laugh of happiness. Looking out into the crowd as he soared into the line of his teammates, he noticed bright flashes of different newspaper companies blinking at him, and he could feel the Omnioculars zooming in on him.

"As the captains get organized, please welcome the International Quidditch Board!"

Harry flew after his teammates, into the side of the stadium, where a type of dugout awaited him. Harry sat on a long bench with the others as Joe said, "Alright, team, let's do our best! Just remember – no won game is worth an injury. It's rainy out there, but we'll have to deal with it. If you want off, we can sub you out just give me the signal. Alright? Alright! 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . ENGLAND!"

Harry and the substitutes stayed on the bench with several of his teammates as the others went out and onto the field.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, the Great Hall was listening in on an amplified radio at the head table. The voice coming out of the radio was the same as the announcers at the game.

"The referee is ready – the captains shake hands – the Quaffle is released and the game begins! Joe Jaffney steals the Quaffle out from Ofan's hands, streaks up the field – passes out to Elizabeth Vang – she scores! 10 – 0, England!"

Cheers throughout the Great Hall, while Viktor cried out, "They should put Harry on! It could be 30 – 0 by now with him!"

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

The match was as close as one could get. After nearly an hour, the score was 90 – 110, to England. The Dutch proved an extremely tough opponent, their beaters superior to the English, whilst the English chasers easily streaked past the Dutch's. After another hour, the score was 230 – 210, the Netherlands beating them by a hair. The two seekers were totally blind in the rain. That's when it happened.

"Oh! England beats the bludger towards the star Dutch Chaser, Ofan – no! He deflects it easily, but drops the Quaffle in the process – Karney catches it, streaks up the field, and – OH!"

With terrifying acceleration, the bludger, looking like a blur, streaked up from beneath and collided into the Chaser's leg with devastating force. The Chaser cries out in pain, drops the Quaffle, and plunges to the ground, where the wards catch him and lower him gently.

"It looks like the referee has called a time-out, see how bad the damage is. Let's see his verdict -"

Harry waited with sweaty palms as the announcer fell silent, as did the crowd. Suddenly - "Word from the mediwizard says . . . a broken leg! Karney is out for the match! England has to rotate a sub on!"

Harry's heart froze with excitement and fear for his teammate. With bated breath, he waited as Jaffney flew up and spoke to the ref. After a few minutes, the ref flew to the announcer and told him something, and the announcer called out, "Karney is off, and Harry Potter is on!"

Harry freezes while Joe gestures for him. Shakily, Harry mounts his broom and flies off onto the field, the crowd going wild. Joe flies to him, soaked with rain and sweat.

"Harry, we're in a bad shape." Jaffney said. "I jarred my shooting wrist when I stole the ball from their chaser in the beginning of the game. I'll be relying on you to curve 'em in, alright?"

Harry nodded, and flew to his position , the crowd still cheering. Taking deep breaths, the sound around him turned into a quiet muffle. The only thing he could hear and feel was his own heartbeat as the Quaffle was thrown into play.

Vang immediately stole the ball and flew up the field. Harry desperately flew up his side, keeping level with her. She turned and looked, and chucked it across the hoops. The keeper was too low to intercept it, and Harry snatched the wet ball out of the air and positioned his fingers on it so that he could get the curve. Sensing something just behind him, Harry pulled up and flew in a backwards roll, a bludger flying against his air. As he came out of the roll, Harry accelerated and threw an under-handed curve to the far post.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

"My God, Potter maneuvers up and over the bludger – throws the ball – it the keeper misses it – it curves and – POTTER SCORES, BOUNCING IN OFF THE METAL! What an amazing shot by the fourteen year old! His first professional goal is a stunner!"

Those in the Great Hall (mostly Gryffindors, who cared the most about Quidditch), cheered loud enough to break the windows.

**-ooOoOoOoo-**

That night, Harry's situation was forgotten. In the Gryffindor Common Room, all of his same house classmates were preparing the party of the century, as they were calling it. The Weasley twins quickly embraced this idea grabbing food from the kitchens and smuggling in as many sweets and entertaining pranking materials they could in from Hogsmeade.

Harry was, however, too exhausted to do anything. And although his international debut was the best he could ask for (a 530 – 325 win, Harry being the man of the match), the fact that he was most likely going to be forced to stay awake for the rest of the night lowered his mood considerably.

Before he'd even reached the Fat Lady, Angelina and Katie were already embracing him, talking excitedly about his performance. Harry just smiled weakly at them as Krum slapped him on the back.

Harry acknowledged their praise as humbly as he could, but could only get a few mumbled words out. Viktor immediately took this into his stride, putting his arm around his friend's shoulders and holding him up with a firm grip. Then, they entered into the common room.

He was met with cheers, but this inexplicably made his insides burn with a warm anger. Harry shrugged off Viktor's arm and gently tried to push his way through the crowd. The crowd immediately surrounded him and began to lift him up, onto their shoulders. Harry squirmed tiredly, and Viktor thankfully spoke out and took Harry off of them and set him down.

"Listen guys, Harry's really tired. He should probably get to bed." Viktor said, his announcement met with quiet. After this pause, a few people yelled out, "Come on, Harry, let's celebrate! You won the match for England!"

Harry grew very angry. "Why should you guys care? This morning, you all hated me for something I didn't do!"

There was silence. Angrily, Harry shoved his way to the stairs, turned, and spat out, "You guys can celebrate for the victory for England. But not for me."

* * *

A/N: Again, sorry for the long wait and short chapter. Tune in next time!


End file.
